


No Matter What

by Jaquapi



Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: Aaron has a nightmare in chapter 6, Aaron's POV, Chapter 6: Bandages/blood trigger warning and minor horror?, F/M, M/M, The Copper Gauntlet, The Iron Trial - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:24:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaquapi/pseuds/Jaquapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron's point of view on certain events in the book</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Every

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Trial

“Aaron Stewart.”

Shocked by the sound of his name being called out, no less the first one, Aaron sat in silent surprise. The clapping from everyone around him snapped him out of it, and he smiled, making his way down to the stage where Master Rufus, the dark-skinned man who chose him, stood.

He couldn’t believe it. He was actually going to the Magisterium. No more foster families, he was here to stay for once in his life. He could be someone.

When he accidentally revealed his magic to Tabitha, his former foster sister, she reacted in the best way possible by telling him about an underground mage school, one she claimed her older brother was attending. He didn’t trust her at first, the whole idea sounding completely crazy, thinking she was just teasing him for the fun of it. But the day she left, the day her brother finally returned to receive guardianship of her, she left him a gift, a piece of paper with an address and a date scribbled on it. At the bottom, a sentence was scribbled in the corner: “Trust me. Don’t screw up” along with her signature, her final mark on his life.

Why he believed her, he’ll never know, but since then, he trained, practiced his magic day after day, week after week, as the Iron Trial edged near. The day finally came when he took a taxi to an abandoned airplane hangar and gone through five tests, doing pretty well in every single one. What had surprised him most of all was when he emerged from the final test and saw he had gotten one of the top scores in the entire trial, though it was bittersweet as more aspirants arrived, many of their family members reassuring them they’d get in and listening intently as their child told them all about the tests they had to go through. But at the moment, he didn’t even care if he had no one to clap him on the shoulder, no one hugging him for being chosen.

He made it. His dream was finally coming true.

“Tamara Rajavi.” A  girl with long dark hair and rich-looking clothes stood up, her well dressed parents clapping politely with the audience. He recognized her from the second test, the one the Asian boy, Jasper, was talking to when the pen incident happened. He glanced at the whiteboard, finding his scores and hers evenly matched, grinning at her as she took her place beside him.

A pause to wait for the applause to die down, and Master Rufus’s eyes raked the crowd one final time. “And my last apprentice will be Callum Hunt.”

No immediate applause, no cheers, nothing. A hush fell over the audience, followed by questioning whispers and frantic looks at the scoreboard for the name. Callum Hunt. Dead last. With a negative score…The dark-haired boy who had made a pen’s ink explode, who had made the rubber ball burst in flames and whose paper “mysteriously” embedded itself into the table. Tamara herself seemed just as dumbfounded as everyone else. He had to admit, he thought Callum was totally epic after making the ball blow up, especially since the look on Master Rockmaple’s face was priceless. He found Callum in the crowd, shooting an encouraging smile at him.

But Callum looked horrified, expression mirroring the man next to him, who mostly looked infuriated, most likely his father.

Master Rufus repeated, “I said Callum Hunt. Callum Hunt, please come down here.”

The man pulled Callum back down when he tried to rise, his face contorting into one of anger as he stood up. “Absolutely not, this has gone far enough, Rufus. You can’t have him.” He spat out the words like they were venomous and it pained him to even talk to the Master.

“Come now, Alastair,” Master Rufus said, unfazed by the man’s fury, “You know the rules as well as anyone. Stop making a fuss over something inevitable. The boy needs to be taught.” At that, Masters started to flank the two, filling in the stairs so they had nowhere to go and looking ready to fight in case they tried anything. But what would they do?

They did nothing at first, then suddenly, the man, Alastair, shot out, hopping from bleacher to bleacher as the crowd jumped out of the way, dragging Callum behind him, who came stumbling along. The mages came rushing after them and once they reached the bottom, Master Rufus was already waiting for them.

“Enough. The boy stays here.” He obviously wasn’t giving Alastair a choice.

Alastair screeched to a stop, wrapping his arms in a death grip around Callum and keeping a glare directed to the man in front of him. He demanded, “Haven’t you killed enough of my family?"

Wait, _what_?

“You haven’t taught him anything,” Master Rufus’s voice grew soft so none of the aspirants could overhear him, though Aaron still could, “An untrained mage wandering around is like a fault in the earth waiting to crack open, and if he does crack, he will kill a lot of other people as well as himself. So don’t talk to me about death.” The two adults sounded like they had some kind of history together and if it was anything good before, something definitely soured their friendship.

“Okay,” Alastair said, “I’ll teach him myself. I’ll take him and I’ll teach him. I’ll get him ready for the First Gate.”

“You’ve had twelve years to teach him and you haven’t used them. I’m sorry, Alastair. This is how it has to be.”

“Look at his scores- he shouldn’t qualify. He doesn’t want to qualify! Right, Call? Right?” The man shook the boy hard, as if trying to get an answer out of him, but Callum remained quiet. He looked very small and nervous in his father’s arms.

Master Rufus sighed with sadness in his deep voice, “Let him go, Alastair.”

“No, he’s my child. I have rights. I decide his future,” he stated with finality.

“No. You don’t.”

Aaron watched in silent horror as the mages tore Alastair away from Callum, flailing and kicking, yelling to let them go. But it was no good; both were quickly restrained despite their struggling. Callum jerked an elbow hard into one mage’s gut and before he could run, the other grabbed his arm and yanked up behind his back. He could hear him wince. Aaron eyed a few looks of alarm from the crowd and he was sure he looked the same way.

“Call! Call, don’t listen to anything they say! They don’t know what they’re doing!” Alastair cried as his captors dragged him towards the exit. He kept struggling like a trapped animal, a manic look in his eyes.  “They don’t know _anything_ about you!”

Something flashed in the air as Alastair threw an arm free, the shining object flying straight to the boy. A dagger. Aimed right at Callum. He stood, fear apparent on his face, but he remained frozen at the spot as the blade soared closer.

What was he doing? Without a thought, Aaron hopped off the stage and ran, running faster than he’d ever before, stopping right in front of Callum as he easily plucked the dagger from the air just as it reached him. He stared at the blade he now held in awe. He couldn’t believe that actually worked! No one shared his personal victory, everyone silent as Alastair was pulled through the hangar’s doors, disappearing from view.

Aaron examined the dagger in his hand, which glinted bright silver, obviously well-cared for. He’d never seen anything like it, the hilt looking like a bird cased in silver in mid-flight and decorated in pattern of swirls and scrolls, a single fancy word carved into the blade: _Semiramis_.

It was beautiful. He was almost sad to part with it, but he held it out to Callum. “Here. I guess this is yours, right?”

Callum unfroze, and his gray eyes glanced at the dagger, murmuring a “Thanks” as he took it from Aaron’s hand.

Tamara didn’t turn to face Callum, but her voice was calm and criticizing as she asked, “ _That_ was your father?”

“Yeah,” Callum admitted, the first words Aaron heard him say since the trials. The memory of Callum speaking out to tell Master Rockmaple he couldn’t do the exercise because his leg during the test in the makeshift gymnasium stuck the most as it made Aaron worry for the boy, especially when Rockmaple didn’t care and told him to do it anyway. Aaron wanted to punch the man for that, but he guess Call got his payback with the whole explosion and everything. “He wants me to be safe.”

As Master Milagros stepped forward to choose her apprentices, Aaron started to block out the rest of the selection. Call’s father seemed protective of his son, almost too much once he thought about. Then again, there was the whole thing about Master Rufus killing his family. Was that even true? He didn’t recall the man denying it…Aaron side-glanced Call, a boy covered in ink and drying rubber and- was that blood? Someone needed to watch out for this kid-  and smelling of smoke and burning tires, with uncertainty.

Whether it was true or not, Aaron knew this just got a lot more interesting.


	2. Single

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of magic training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, first off, I know I said this would be published maybe three weeks ago, but I had a lot of homework to catch up and the grading period's ending so we've got all these tests and this chapter really just dragged on. But it's done, it's probably a piece of crap, but it's my piece of crap.

“The three of you are late.”

Master Rufus glowered down at his apprentices as Call finally emerged from his room, now changed into the Iron Year gray uniform. “The morning alarm is a call to breakfast in the Refectory. It’s not your personal alarm clock. This had better not happen again or you will miss breakfast entirely.”

Part of Aaron wondered why they couldn’t just eat in their room all the time, but Rufus made it clear there would be no argument.

“But weㅡ” Tamara started to point at Call, to explain what happened. Rufus’s glare made her stop.

“Are you going to tell me that you were ready and someone else made you late, Tamara?” She shrunk at his voice, and Aaron, though the beratement was not directed to him, suddenly felt so small. “Because then I would tell you that it is the responsibility of my apprentices to look after one another, and the failure of one is the failure of all. Now what was it you were about to say?”

Her head hung low, dark braids doing little to hide her embarrassed face. “Nothing, Master Rufus.”

Rufus nodded at this answer and proceeded out the door, followed by Tamara and Call, who limped behind them. When they first burst into Call’s bedroom to wake him, Aaron saw his look of pain before it was quickly masked with annoyance at their sudden appearance. He remembered the Iron Trial, not even a day ago, and Call’s failure of climbing the rope ladder because of his leg. Did he wake up every morning, stiff and sore? Just how much did it hurt every time he had to stand, walk, go anywhere by foot?

Aaron glanced at the leather band in his hand thoughtfully, rubbing the cool iron band that matched the one clasped on his left wrist. Call’s band was a little smaller, tailored to fit his slim wrist. Call really was small, he just didn’t look like it. He held himself with stiff pride that made him seem as tall as Aaron. But he remembered how Call’s dad was clinging to his son after Master Rufus chose him to become his apprentice, like a dragon protecting his hoard from greedy humans. Aaron remembered how small he looked then and how he’d managed to put up a tough front afterwards when everyone else was avoiding him, acting like he was some freak with a psycho knife-throwing dad.

Call didn’t have a choice about coming or not. His father had made him believe what he’d wanted, but he still didn’t have a choice. Now he was here. Aaron wondered if he’d just get up and leave someday, and for some reason, the thought already hurt. Would Call stay long enough for him to find out why?

Aaron readjusted the school bag slung on his shoulder, tightened his grip on the wristband, and hurried after his apprentice group. He slowed to walk beside Call, who sounded like he wanted to yelp at him, but it came out as a small squeak instead. Aaron smiled, and gave his shoulder a bump, looking down at the wristband he clutched. Call followed his gaze and immediately frowned at the sight.

“Put it on. Before Rufus sees,” Aaron whispered to him. “You’re supposed to wear them all the time.”

Call groaned, but accepted the wristband either way.

If Rufus wanted them to look after each other, Aaron would make sure to look after Call if he wouldn’t do it himself.

* * *

Aaron entered the Viking ship-like boat first, surprised as it didn’t wobble under his weight. The magic that held it at shore must’ve also kept it steady against the current of the water. Still, it didn’t stop him from holding out a hand to Call to help him in. Call looked just as shocked, but took it, which made Aaron smile, even if he seemed opposed to it. Tamara settled herself behind them and Master Rufus soon stepped aboard.

Tabitha had told him about the basic structure and ideas of the Magisterium, but she never got into full detail how it actually was on the inside. He couldn’t blame her; he himself couldn’t find the right words to describe how magical and unreal the school really was.

“This is the most common way we get around the Magisterium, using the underground rivers. Until you can navigate, I will take you through the caves. Eventually, each of you will learn the paths and how to coax the water to take you where you want to go.” Master Rufus then bent down to the water’s level, muttered a few words, and the surface rippled, as if the wind stirred it, but there was no wind in the tunnels. How exactly did that work, being able to order an element, something without body nor conscience, and they’d do as commanded?

Before he could even ask, the boat lurched ahead, throwing him back into his seat. Call looked a little pale as they set off into the caves, gripping the wooden bench a bit tighter. He glanced at every jagged rock they passed, as if ready to run at the slightest sound, the smallest shadow, but even he could barely hide his awe when they passed limestone formations and phosphorescent moss.

The boat ride was surreal, and sometimes, Aaron couldn’t even see Call beside him or Tamara next to Master Rufus. Then, his eyes would have to adjust and he’d be left squinting when they passed glowing rocks or hallways lit with torches. Aaron ran his hand through the water, leaving trails of unnatural light streaming through. His fingertips dripped liquid moonlight, and as he flicked them, it glittered like miniature fireworks.

His eyes widened. “ _Cool_.”

Soon, they glided to a stop, bobbing gently at the foot of a stone platform, where another set of stairs led off to a smooth path cut through the rocky shore. Aaron scrambled off with Tamara and Call right behind him. He held out a hand again to help Call onto the platform, but this time, Call seemed to ignore him. He instead threw himself onto the shore, flailing as he landed a bit awkwardly, unsteadily and ready to fall into the pool. Master Rufus clapped his hand on Call’s shoulder, balancing him. He looked at the man in shock, who studied him with a strange look on his face Aaron couldn’t recognize.

After a moment, Call said, “I don’t need your help.” His eyes were harder that the iron on his wristband, but there was deep hurt in them, too, that make Aaron’s heart ache. There seemed to be no way for him to swallow his pride enough to accept any type of help.

Master Rufus stayed silent as he removed his hand off of Call. Aaron couldn’t get a read on the man, his expressions carved out of rock and thoughts locked up tight.

“Come,” he said, before setting off the path and the three of them rushed off to follow.

The road ended at a wall, a dead end. Aaron was about to ask if they took a wrong turn when Master Rufus held a hand out and the wall became glassy, as if just an illusion, nothing but pure imagination. Master Rufus passed through it easily, Tamara following his example. Call glanced at him, and he simply shrugged. So he braced himself and stepped forward.

The cavern he entered was just as bare and empty as the tunnel, and sand was poured into a pile at the room’s center.

“First, I wish to go over the Five Principles of Magic. You may remember some of these from your first lecture on the bus, but I don’t expect any of youㅡeven you, Tamara, no matter how many times your parents have drilled youㅡto truly comprehend them until you have learned many more things. You may write these down, however, and I do expect you to think on them.”

From Aaron’s satchel, he extracted a notebook that looked handstitched and a pen similar to the one from the Iron Trial and the one Call made explode the exact same day. He didn’t have time to dwell in the memory as he hurried to list down Master Rufus’s lesson.

After he recited the Five Properties of Magic, Rufus continued on. “During the test, all of you displayed power. But without focus, power is nothing. Fire can either burn down your house or warm it; the difference is in your ability to control the fire. Without focus, working with the elements is very dangerous. I don’t need to tell some of you just how dangerous.”

Rufus unexpectedly looked at Tamara, who kept her head as high as she could. By the way her face grew red, it seemed to be her only comfort. Aaron must’ve known even less about his other apprentices than he thought, even if he only met them a day ago.

“Four days a week, you three will train with me. On the fifth day, there will be a lecture by one of the other mages, and then, once a month, there will be an exercise in which you will be put what you have learned to use. On that day, you may find yourselves either competing against or working with other apprentice groups. Weekends and nights are yours for practice and further study. There is the Library as well as practice rooms, and the Gallery, where you can waste time. Do you have any questions for me before we begin your first lesson?” When none of them did, he nodded. “Very well. Can you guess why I’ve set up the room this way, then?”

“I’m guessing you need help fortifying your sand castle?” Call beside him mumbled, quiet enough to keep to himself, but not enough for Aaron to not hear and hold back a laugh.

Master Rufus didn’t say anything about the comment. “I want you three to sit in a circle around the sand. You can sit any way that you’re the most comfortable. Once you’re ready, you must concentrate on moving the sand with your mind. Feel the power in the air around you. Feel the power of the earth. Feel it rise through the soles of your feet and in the breaths you take. Now _focus_ it. Grain by grain, you are going to separate the sand into two pilesㅡone dark and one light. You may begin!”

Master Rufus spoke as though they were preparing to leave for an epic quest that would save the world, letting loose all contained anticipation in a single, surging flood, but once the task in question settled in, they all shared confused expressions.

“Separate the sand?” Tamara became the first to say anything for the three of them. “But shouldn’t we  be learning something more useful? Like fighting rogue elementals or piloting the boat orㅡ”

“Two piles. One light, one dark. Start now.” Master Rufus then turned to walk through the wall, solidifying once he disappeared from view and leaving his apprentices in the cavern alone.

Tamara watched him leave and finally sighed, “Don’t we even get a tool kit?”

“Well, I guess we should start,” Aaron said with as much enthusiasm he could milk out. Still, he couldn’t see the appeal of sitting in a damp, cold cave for hours dividing a pile of sand.

They sat around the pile, which now seemed more impossibly huge the longer he stared at it. Eventually, Tamara broke the trance by holding her hand out, some grains now hovering in the air. Aimlessly, she sent them spinning into two areas, listing them off as she went:  “Light, dark. Light. Dark. Dark. Light.”

Call kept his eyes on the pile, narrowing them as if he could magically make it disappear if he glared hard enough. “I can’t believe I was worried magic school was going to be dangerous.”

“You could die of boredom,” Aaron said, and it made Call snigger. He had never heard the boy laugh, even just a half-one. It was a start.

“The thought of that,” Tamara sounded completely miserable as she kept separating the pile, “is the only thing that’s going to keep me going.”

Aaron knew he should get started, but he had no idea how to start. When he practiced for the Iron Trial, all he knew was how to make dust motes dance around and branched out from there and that was using air, the complete opposite of earth. Even at the Iron Trial, the only “real” magic they performed was lifting a piece of paper. He just never clicked with the other elements. So he drew into himself, like he always did and tried tapping into the well of magic that laid dormant, drawing power out, imagining hands reaching out to the pile, lifting the grains, splitting it, little by little, forming two piles. And they followed as instructed. Controlling earth was different, more solid and heavy than air, but grounded unlike the free wind. Eventually, he fell into a rhythm, flowing yet grueling.

They’d kept dividing for who knows how long before a blue-uniformed boy appeared from the wall, dropping a sack and clay pitcher at their feet with a big smile behind his tangled brown hair and an “Eat up, kids”. They inhaled the cheese and lichen sandwiches with the fresh, cold water. Aaron hadn’t noticed just how hungry he was, how dry his throat grew. His mind busied itself concentrating on the buzzing that moved the sand and how his spot on the floor was the only source of warmth in the cave. They didn’t bother talking as they ate, all too tired from the repetitive task without end. All beauty and awe Aaron saw in the Magisterium was washed down with a final swallow of the water.

“Come on, or we’re going to have to eat dinner down here,” Aaron said, brushing the crumbs on his uniform. He wanted nothing more than to finish their assignment so they could hopefully get to the more interesting lessons.

Suddenly, the sand surrounding them exploded, scattering around the room before settling on the cave floor, the piles mashed back into a single unorganized mound. None of them said a thing, couldn’t breathe a word. Aaron felt his fists tightened, shaking a bit as he tried to hold back, to not burst into everyone else’s faces like the sand before deflating back with a sense of regret. But how could he not just scream right now? Hours of work and magic, wasted in one big explosion. He side-glanced at Tamara at his right, who looked completely horrified, and on his left, Call, looking equally as shocked, but something else as well. He recognized it instantly.

Guilt.

It didn’t take Tamara long to put two and two together. “Whatㅡ” she managed to say, lips pursed as if to keep herself from punching Callin the face. “What did you _do_?”

“IㅡIㅡ” Call seemed like he wanted to say something, but his courage must’ve been lost in the sand. “It just happened.”

“I’m going to kill you.” Her voice was impossibly calm. “I am going to sort your guts into piles.”

“Uh.” Call was looking like he wanted to bolt, like he could tell she meant it, too.

Aaron steadied his breathing, trying to keep his temper down, hands tangling themselves around his head. It was a habit of his, an old trick he developed, and it felt like all his hair could be gone in a single yank. But it didn’t. “ Okay, okay, we’re just going to have to do it all over again.”

They fell back into silence and now, tension, as they started once again.

* * *

Aaron collapsed on his bed, not bothering to kick off his new boots as he simply revelled in the smooth, cool comforter. His sore body welcomed the feeling, relaxing him. Just a little bit. The memory of his first day replayed over and over in his mind, like the buzzing from the excessive, repetitive magic exercise. This was not at all what he expected for his first lesson in magic school.

Master Rufus retrieved them from the cave hours what felt an eternity later, bringing them to the Refectory where they looked out-of-place covered in dust and sand and exhaustion as they joined the other students enjoying dinner with laughter and stories of the first day. It all sounded way more interesting than what they did: piloting the boats through the tunnels, making fireballs, moving rocks with their minds. Nothing at all like their little sample of diluted hell. Maybe tomorrow would be better, that Master Rufus would notice their potential and then teach them things like the other Masters and everything Aaron thought for the Magisterium would come to life and this would truly become a dream come true.

One could hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta, counterweighting-death on Tumblr AKA UnfathomableFandoms on Fanfiction.net. Seriously, she's the only reason I didn't post this until Halloween. 
> 
> BUT FEAR NOT! Updates will hopefully become more consistent based on my schedule, and as an apology for posting late, chapters 3 and POSSIBLY 4 will be posted tomorrow(SHIT'S ABOUT TO GO DOWN)


	3. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised apology chapter! After the sand incident and friendship bonding stuff

They ended up not talking for a while.

After the sand incident and Call taking the whole fall for it, neither Aaron nor Tamara speaking up how they were all to blame, Aaron figured Call must’ve been mad at the two of them. Tamara shared Aaron’s sentiment as they both kept quiet once Call returned into the cave, avoiding his gaze as much they could. He couldn’t bear to look at Call and see his steely gray eyes staring back at him with hard anger. 

The whole thing was...strange. Eating the sand seemed crazy, but after he swallowed down a few grains, he felt more in tune with the earth, connected in a way he hadn't achieved since they started. Magic flowed easier and he didn't have to reach deep into himself to access the power in him. Instead, it felt as though it rose to meet him, pooling higher and higher. The buzzing in his head numbed out, and for once, he could think clearly as he moved the sand, grain by grain. Only, he didn't move it one by one. It wasn't a million little pieces anymore, but more like a giant form, all mashed together to handle easily. Controlling the elements never felt any simpler and painless.

Until Master Rufus caught them. Now Aaron regrets it.

Practice was silent as usual. Only now, Master Rufus stayed behind, often seated in the corner doing his own thing. Probably to make sure they never tried anything like that again. Once in a while, Aaron would look up from his work, Tamara in the zone as she kept lifting the sand to see the shade and place it in its rightful place. Call was more interesting; he moved the sand, but instead of lifting it, grains rolled from the pile, pushed into two streams, one light and one dark. It was so much faster than their old method and by the look on Call's face, easier. Still, Call was still mad at them for not backing him up. He didn't want to be pinned down as a copycat, too. But when Master Rufus didn't seem to complain about the new method, he and Tamara adapted it themselves and by some godforsaken miracle, they managed to finally finish the division. Aaron tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach when Master Rufus simply nodded at their work before kicking it all back into a single pile.

They visited the Gallery after three weeks of the silent treatment, when Celia invited Call to join the group of Iron Years, and Aaron half-hoped he and Tamara might get the chance to apologize to Call, but no such luck. Even in the glamour of the Gallery, enchanting with the strange looking but tasty snacks and magic games to play, Call kept away from them like they were the plague. Aaron tried to enjoy himself, but even Alex Strike’s, the Bronze Year who brought them lunch frequently, parody of Star Wars didn’t help the need to just talk to Call from nagging him in the back of his mind. He was just leaving with Drew and Celia back to the rooms, feeling all “funned” out, when Call caught up with them. He had a small chance to actually say anything to Call in days when a flock of Silver and Gold Years appeared from the Mission Gate, uniforms scorched and soaked in blood and soot coated faces, looking absolutely devastating. The ones carried in on stretchers either laid unmoving, as if already dead, or jerked in anguish, bubbling skin glowing like molten lava. Call seemed to freeze, staring at the bloody bodies as if he were traumatized. Aaron pulled him away. None of them could even breathe at the sight of the injured students.

Before they could even run, Master North caught them, glowering as he said, “You! You, Iron Years! You shouldn’t be here!” and at that, they scattered.

Another perfect chance wasted.

* * *

 “All we do is divide sand into piles,” Aaron huffed the next day in the Refectory. Maybe he was overreacting, but he knew for a fact Tamara and Call were tired of the Room of Sand and Boredom after weeks of the meaningless torture. “For hours and hours. I mean, I’m sure it’s for a reason, but-“

Jasper interrupted, “Well, I feel sorry for you.” He sure didn’t sound that sorry. “Master Lemuel’s apprentices have been fighting elementals and we’ve been doing awesome things with Master Milagros. We made fireballs and she showed us how to use the metal in the earth to levitate ourselves. I got almost an inch off the ground.”

Aaron didn’t see Call, but he could feel an eye roll as the boy said with scorn in his voice, “Wow, a whole inch.”

Jasper whipped back to Call, anger taking over. “It’s because of you that Aaron and Tamara have to suffer. Because you did so badly in the tests. That’s why your whole group is stuck in the sandbox while the rest of us get to hit the playing field.”

Aaron froze, looking down the table as Call flushed, embarrassed as Jasper sneered him down. That was it. This was all wrong. He shook his head, ready to say something, but Jasper was on a roll as he continued, “And I wouldn’t be so snotty about levitating if I was you, Hunt. If you could ever learn to levitate yourself, maybe you wouldn’t slow Tamara and Aaron down so much, limping along after them.”

Aaron snapped, back shot rigid and eyes wide. He did _not_ just say that.

Someone slammed their hand on the table, spoon clattering. It was Tamara. “Shut up, Jasper! We’re not sorting sand because of Call. We’re sorting sand because of me. It’s my fault, okay?” The dark bags under her eyes made her look scary, casting even darker shadows on her cheeks as she shouted at Jasper, who paled and became confused. Angering Tamara must’ve been the last thing on his list.

“What? No! You did really well at the Trial. We all did, except him. He took my spot. Your Master felt sorry for him and wanted-”

That’s it; he’s had enough. Aaron stood up, knuckles white from the crushing grip he had on his fork. He felt ready to just stab Jasper with the silverware.

“It was never _your_ spot. It’s more than just points.” His voice grew louder and louder as his rage rose. “It’s about who the Master wants to teachㅡand I can tell exactly why Master Rufus didn’t want _you_.” By then, everyone seated nearby had paused to gape at his heated moment as Jasper struggled to get words out. He must’ve not expected both Tamara and Aaron of all people to intervene. He threw a repulsed glare at Jasper and slammed his fork on the table, turning his back on their astonished faces. He couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as Jasper right now.

What was that jerk trying to prove? That he’s better than Call? Would that even mean anything? Jasper had been such an ass to Call even before they got to the Magisterium. Did Jasper see Call as competition? For what though?

He wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

Not moments after he left, he heard a loud yelp of surprise followed quickly by Call’s laughter and one by one, more Iron Years joined in until soon, their laughter echoed through the tunnel. What just happened? Another set of boots clunked from the direction he just stalked off from and he saw a dim figure tearing down the hall, crashing into his shoulder as they passed him. He got a good look at their braided pigtails and tears streaming from their bag ridden eyes.

“Tamara?”

* * *

 Once they’d both got back to the commons room, Tamara settled into the plush couches while Aaron boiled them a quick pot of the weird tea he’d seen in the Refectory. He was getting used to drinking it, but he still missed normal drinks like soda and juice and hot chocolate, especially after a long cry session. They were especially draining.

He sat himself on the couch’s arm. “What happened?” he said in a low voice, worried someone might overhear him, even if it was just the two of them. 

Her hands rubbed the steaming stone cup, warming her hands. “I don’t want to talk about it.” There were now only wet streaks left on her blotchy cheeks. “I just did something I’m sure I shouldn’t have done.”

Aaron nodded. It must’ve been something bad if it made her cry like this when he’d never seen her cry at all.  “Do you think Call forgives us yet?”

Tamara shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if today made a difference. Maybe should we wait until he talks to us?”

“Personally, I think we shouldㅡ”

“Hey.”

Call was suddenly standing in the hallway, the open door still in his hand. Was he so mad at them he didn’t even want to come in? 

“Thanks for―well, just thanks.”

Oh.

“Are you coming in or not?” Tamara sniffed, finally looking up.

Call swung the door closed and immediately headed for his bedroom.

Tamara stopped him. “Call, stay.”

And he did, lingering at his closed door as if ready to escape in a second’s notice.

Aaron’s eyes kept darting back from the two apprentices, nervous how this might turn out. Was Call still mad at them? They gave him time to cool off, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Or maybe Call would just never forgive them. Whatever good bonds they had before could’ve been smashed to pieces, and he had no idea how that’d affect the group, if there even was one left.

“What happened to the sand was my fault. I’m sorry.” Call looked surprised at what Tamara said. Was he not expecting an apology? “I’m sorry I suggested something so dangerous in the first place. And I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

“I asked you to come up with an idea, “ he shrugged. “Any idea. It wasn’t your fault.”

She had a strange look aimed at Call. “But I thought you were mad.”

“Yeah, we thought you were angry with us,” Aaron agreed with a nod. “You didn’t say practically anything to us for _three whole weeks_.”

Call looked even more shocked. “No, you didn’t say anything to _me_ for three whole weeks. You guys were the ones who were mad.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “Why would we be mad at you? You got in trouble with Rufus; we didn’t. You didn’t blame it on us, even though you could have.”

“I’m the one who should’ve known better.” Tamara gripped her cup in such a tight, vice-like hold, Aaron was worried she might accidentally shatter it. “You two hardly know anything about magic, about the Magisterium, about elements. But I do. My...older sister…”

Call rested on the coffee table, hand massaging his left knee. Aaron winced internally. Crap, he forgot about Call’s leg. They should’ve let him sit while they had this talk. “Kimiya?” he asked.

Tamara became hushed, muttering, “I had another sister.”

Aaron whispered back, just as low as hers, “What happened to her?”

“Worse. She became one of those things I was telling you aboutㅡa human elemental. There are these great mages who can swim through the earth like they’re fish or make stone daggers shoot out from walls or bring down lightning strikes or make giant whirlpools. She wanted to be one of the great ones, so she pushed her magic until she got taken over by it,” she said, beginning to choke up and Aaron wondered if she’d start crying again. She shook her head, as if she heard his thoughts.  “The worst part is how proud my dad was of her at first, when she was succeeding. He would tell Kimiya and me how we should be more like her. Now he and my mother won’t talk about her at all. They won’t even say her name.”

Call asked, “What was her name?”

After a beat, she managed to say, “Ravan.”

Aaron reached out, wanting to pat her on the shoulder, but he hesitated. Could he do anything to comfort her at the moment? It seemed he really didn't know anything about Tamara or Call. “You’re not going to wind up like her. You don’t have to worry.”

She shook her head again. “I told myself that I wouldn’t be like my father or my sister. I told myself I would never take any chances. I wanted to prove I could do everything the right way and not cut a single corner―and I would _still_ be the best. But I did cut corners―and I taught you how to cut them, too. I didn’t prove anything.”

“Don’t say that. you proved something tonight.”

“What?”

Call mentioned offhandedly, “That Jasper looks better with pudding in his hair.”

Wait, that’s what happened? He remembered the loud giggles of the students just before Tamara ran right into him. He suppressed a chuckle as a Jasper with purple goop running down his head appeared in his imagination, teeth gritted tight like he was ready to throw a tantrum, and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I was going to say…although I sure wish I’d seen it.”

“It was pretty great,” Call admitted with a smile. He haven’t seen him smile in weeks. It was nice.

“Tamara, you proved that you care about your friends. And we care about you. And we’ll make sure you don’t cut any more corners. Won’t we?”

He looked back at Call who seemed a little skeptical, not meeting his eyes, but said, “Yeah. And, Tamara…”

“What?” she asked, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve.

Call’s ears grew pink, finding his boot extremely interesting. “No one’s ever stuck up for me like you guys did tonight.”

Aaron looked over the boy. Was he serious? Did Call never have anyone stand up for him in the twelve years of his life? Now Aaron really wanted punch Jasper, and every other person who’s ever hurt Call. No one deserved that; people had enough problems without being attacked for something meaningless compared to who they were.

Tamara let out a good-natured scoff. “Did you actually say something nice to us? Are you feeling okay?”

Call said, “I don’t know. I might need to lay down.”

He didn’t. Call stayed with them, talking for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap 4 coming real soon!


	4. Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first monthly test

Aaron was sure he would never get the sand out of the creases of his skin. It had become a part of him now, as much as his affinity for magic. There was sand in places he didn’t know existed until now, and it still felt worse than a day at the beach. Still, the exercise became easier, and it felt more natural each day to fall back into the rhythm, even as Rufus pelted them with candy worms and blared classical music at them. Aaron wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that they had eaten so many of their meals in the cave. Who knew how much sand and dust his gritty sandwich and cold water could’ve collected down there?

Long, sand filled days later, after spending entire mornings and afternoons practically living in the Room of Sand and Boredom, Master Rufus arrived at their dorms with armbands, and he saw Tamara’s eyes widen. Anything that made Tamara look that excited was obviously a big thing, and Aaron found himself jittery with pent up excitement. As easy as the exercise had become, Aaron was ready for something new, something more difficult that really tested their limits. Call’s eyes went wide, too, but he looked like he was about to face death.

Tamara was bouncing at her heels as she looped her armband around her wrist, the one without her wristband. “Do you know what kind of test it’s going to be? Air, fire, earth, or water? Can you give us a hint?” she said. “Like just a tiny little itty-bittyㅡ”

“No apprentices are given advanced knowledge of how they are to be tested,” Rufus interrupted. “That would confer an unfair advantage. You must win on your own merits.”

Call made a sound like he was choking on air. “Win?” he said. “We’re not going to _win_.”

Aaron finished wrapping his armband near his elbow, the same way people in sports games wore it, as he tried not to smile. It wasn’t like there weren’t more important things to do now, but it wasn’t like an underground school would have a giant sports field in the tunnels. He hadn’t played soccer at all since before the Iron Trial. The armband offered a bit of familiar nervous excitement he hadn’t felt since his last game. Call almost sounded like one of his pessimistic teammates. Tamara definitely reminded him of their coach. “That’s the spirit.”

Master Rufus rolled his eyes, a habit quickly developed from his apprentices. Aaron, after a month of training and living in the Magisterium, finally felt like he could understand the man much better. It was still hard to get a read on him, but the man wasn’t as closed off as before, even if the reason for their lessons remained a complete mystery. Slowly, he found the man smiling a little more, though he still mostly expressed himself with his bushy eyebrows.

“Come along,” Master Rufus said as he fluttered out the room.

They were led down a curving stairway lit by glowing moss that pulsated with different colors of the rainbow, which soon opened up into a giant arena-like cave, the clusters of jutting stalactites and stalagmites jaggedly placed to make Aaron feel as though they were entering the jaws of an enormous stone beast. The other Iron Years had gathered at the center of the cave, some gaping at the sharp rock formations and the magnitude of the roomㅡbig enough to fit an entire football fieldㅡsome getting in some last minute training, all still amazed by the cavern and looking very anxious. And why wouldn’t they be? It was their first monthly exam, which would test and showcase all they’ve learned so far, and they were wearing the armbands that divided them into teams. It almost felt like a competition.

Call’s pessimism had rubbed off on him. All they had learned was how to move sand, which would be great if they wanted to build the world’s best sandcastle or search for buried treasure, but not for defeating unknown beasts. Aaron’s confidence faded. What if he really wasn’t a good mage, that he was just a fluke? Would Master Rufus have that look on his faceㅡthe look his foster parents got when he turn out what they expected?

The Magisterium had given him a one-shot chance at approval. He couldn't flunk this test.

Master North stood before them, arms open wide as if welcoming them. “Iron Year apprentices! I give you your first exercise. You are going to fight elementals.”

An immediate silence rushed over the crowd. The apprentices became slack faced, a few whispering tensely. Beside him, Aaron noticed both Tamara and Call were a little paler.  He felt his own stomach tighten a bit. They weren’t trained for something as big as facing off with an elemental. They all knew it. And from the stories shared at dinnertime, neither were any of the other apprentice groups.

“You’ll do fine,” Master Rufus reassured at seeing the terrified looks on their faces.

“Master Rufus, we can’t do this,” Call whispered furiously, conscious not to let the other people hear him. “We didn’t practiceㅡ”

“You know what you need to know.” He shifted to face Tamara. “What do the elements want?”

Tamara gulped. She set her jaw and toyed with her braid nervously.   _“Fire wants to burn, water wants to flow, air wants to rise, earth wants to bind, chaos wants to devour.”_

“You three think about the Five Principles of Magic and about what I taught you, and you’ll do just fine.” Without explaining another thing, Master Rufus strode away, joining the other Masters who were seated on the far side of the arena in armchair shaped stones. They talked to one another as they lounged around, all casual like, as if they weren’t sending their twelve year old students into head-to-head combat against dangerous creatures. There were also some older students standing by the senior mages. Aaron could vaguely recognize Alex Strike standing among them before the crystals began dimming down and he felt like nothing existed except for the darkness and the steady breathing of the other students.

Nothing happened.

Maybe it was all a prank.

Then again, the mages weren’t known for their jokes.

Something gleamed in the dark, toxically golden orbs staring back at him. Aaron didn’t feel comforted by the bits of light, something unnatural about the way they shined.

Then he realized something.

They _were_ staring back at him.

Their reflective light felt like headlights, and Aaron was a deer about to become roadkill. The odd eyes were the least of his worries as the creature lumbered out of its cage, followed by two other. They were like the gigantic sea serpents he’d seen in mythology books as a kid, only on land and with huge bat-like wings, necks stretching as far as the ceiling and tails edged with spines trailing behind them. They opened their mouths, exposing teeth like tiny razors, and tasted the air hungrily. Misty breath poured from their jaws.

This definitely wasn’t a soccer game.

Jasper must’ve been either braver or dumber than the other apprentices, because he surged forward, letting out a great howl and throwing out an open palm. A ball of fire shot out, barely grazing the head of the first wyvern. It only agitated the creature and it let out a growl like a timpani drum amplified a thousand times. Jasper thrust his hands again, obviously losing his confidence. This time, only smoke puffed from the center. The wyvern’s cloudy breath spilled at his feet and began to coil around him. From it, he began to rise like a balloon, flailing and kicking and shouting as if it made a difference. The wyvern shut him up by smacking him with its tail.

The apprentices yelped as the wyverns shot towards them.

“Oh, crap.” Call could’ve said a lot worse than _“crap”_.  “How are we supposed to fight that?”

“It’s not fair,” Aaron spat. None of them were ready. None of them were strong enough. Yet here they were, battling giant elementals as the Masters stayed at the sidelines, barely vague shadows from where he stood, ready to not lift a finger to assist them. They seemed about ready to lean further into comfort, and pop some magical popcorn. Aaron clenched his fists. This was his time to prove to them he wasn’t someone to write off.

“Here goes nothing,” he breathed. Before he knew what he was doing, he hurled himself and landed on the wyvern’s tail, who screeched in disgust of tiny mage hands flailing all over it. He grappled for a grip as best he could on an elemental made of air. It was surprisingly solid, but it was little help as he flailed helplessly like a rag doll as the wyvern writhed like a rodeo bull, desperately trying to shake him off. It only made him hold on harder, determination giving him strength to latch his arms tight.

The wyvern eventually whipped him off, and he went flying in the air. He felt so disoriented from the ride, he didn’t realize he was about to crack his skull against the ground. _Well, I tried,_  was all Aaron thought as he braced himself for the concussion to come.

Before he could hit the ground, coldness enveloped him, clasping him a loose, yet strong grip. He opened his eyes. A giant hand made of ice encased him, holding him but a few inches from the ground. Aaron let out a relieved breath. At least they were sure the Masters weren’t here to kill them or let them die.

But the apprentices weren’t doing any good. Flashes of magic burst out, the desperate and startled cries of apprentices echoing from the other end of the cavern. It was mass mayhem: apprentices scrambling into small, chaotic packs, shooting blasts of fire and ice and air at the elementals before the two wyverns easily subdued them with a single breath, the ceiling now jam-packed with floating kids.

Aaron wrestled against the icy fingers, but they held up strong. The only way out was to melt them, but he’d never used fire magic before. It would have been a huge risk to try summoning even a small spark.

Aaron looked up at the high ceiling exasperatedly, seizing from his struggling for a split second, and simply tried willing the hand to _let go_.

The hand must have read his mind or took pity after seeing how desperate he was to get out, because it suddenly dissipated underneath him. Aaron yelped and managed to catch himself before he could fall face first into the ground. Pebbles dug into his hands, and he was now coated in dust, but he ignored it. Did he do that? He hadn’t reached out for an element, or felt the pool of magic in him ripple at all. Maybe the magic had become more natural to him than he thought. Aaron had not time to wonder what was going on. If he stayed put any longer, the wyverns would take advantage of his distraction and attack.

“Call, run! Go!”  

Aaron’s focus shot up at Drew’s voice. Drew had been levitating, mimicking the wyvern’s breathㅡa strategy Aaron commended him for. The wyvern had him by the pant leg, but Drew didn’t seem as scared for himself as he was for Call.

_Call._

As the wyverns busied themselves toying with the apprentices, the last one, shadowing itself high above their heads, shot out. He watched as Call’s face melted at the sight of the elemental diving at him. He looked ready to bolt, when he stiffened. Another feeling of dread overtook him. The pure terror he saw in Call’s face was a sick reminder that he _couldn’t_ run. As much as Call wanted, needed to, the best he could manage was an uneven sort of canterㅡhis right leg bending to pull him forward, then he’d have to heave his left one after it. It wasn’t enough. The wyvern was catching up, lurching after him with long strides. Call’s foot was caught and he stumbled to the ground, just as the wyvern reared up above him, unlocking its scaly jaw full of fangs and billowing puffs of wyvern breath. It closed in, ready to chomp Call’s head clean off...

Call threw up his arms, and a flood of sand rose, crashing into the wyvern. It screeched as it was thrown violently into the wall, collapsing in a great thump. Sandstone chipped away from the walls like snow. He stood up, clearly bemused and surprised to be even alive. He glanced around the room and at his hands in silent wonder. Before the wyvern could get back on its feet, Call flung out his hands again, and the ceiling’s stalactites came crashing down, pinning its vast wings down like Aaron’s science teacher would pin down a frog for dissection, and immobilizing it. Call let out a whoop of success. The wyvern screeched angrily, snapping its beak and bearing its teeth. Call barely dodged the breath that floated towards him like cigarette smoke.  

Tamara emerged from her hiding spot and shouted a few words at Call, who in return tossed Semiramis from his belt to her. She disappeared into the smoke, knife in hand. Aaron heard two giant howls before a sudden burst of blue smoke rose, Tamara along with it. Call grabbed her foot before she could float away, her hair wild and loose and streaked with dust. He could see both were smiling widely.

There was one more left, tearing across the arena floor straight towards him. He didn’t feel as scared as before. He knew what to do now.

He thought back to what Rufus had asked Tamara before they’d begun. He’d asked her to recite the Cinquain, their first lesson ever at the Magisterium, almost completely forgotten in the heat of the moment. The counterweight for air was earth, and wyverns were air elementals. Aaron barely had to call out his magic, the earth now a part of him as much as he was of it. Aaron threw out his hand, hurling a wave of earth into the elemental, who skidded to a stop with a piercing cry.

A storm of stones swirled above the wyvern. Aaron shot a quick glance up to see Celia floating on a cloud of wyvern’s breath, raining down pebbles. Aaron concentrated, and they merged into a boulder as large as a car.  He sent it plummeting onto the wyvern, and it turned into smoke before it could die. The boulder crashed against a wall, falling apart into tiny pebbles again.

Aaron stared from where the boulder struck into a thousand pieces to his hands. He’d just thrown a boulder as easily as he would a baseball. He was tempted to strike a haughty pose and flex, but Call would probably slap him.

“Whee!” Tamara flapped her arms and giggled as the wyvern breath wore off and she bobbed back down to earth, Call letting go of his hold on her ankle, along with the many others floating, many laughing and cheering, some remaining quiet and didn’t bother smiling. She handed Miri back to Call as the Masters broke out in applause. Rufus had a proud little glimmer in his eye.

Tamara had a huge grin on her face and Call looked stunned as they waded through the crowd of applauding students, who all clapped them on the back. Aaron watched as his face slowly lit up, smiling broadly back at them. Call didn’t smile much, at least not genuinely. He had a signature troublemaker smirk, but his real smile was rare and bright as the crystals in the caves. Aaron found himself starting to smile as well as they joined him.

“Call.” At his name, said boy turned around, and he found himself facing Alex Strike. Alex’s smile was perfectly straight and Aaron wondered if he’d had braces or if it was natural. “I was rooting for you guys.”

“Why?” Call asked, blinking at Alex quizzically.

“Because you’re like me,” Alex said. “I can tell.”

He stifled back a snicker as he said, “Yeah, right.”

Call was right. Alex Strike probably didn’t know them as anyone but Master Rufus’s apprentices, the kids he’d only catch a glance of during his daily rounds of delivering their lunches to them. He barely acknowledged them at all other than his short greetings and smiles upon watching their meticulous work. No doubt their newfound popularity reminded him of their “friendship”.

“I didn’t really do much,” Call shrugged. “I just stood there until I remembered to runㅡexcept then, I remembered I can’t run.” Call started to shrivel in on himself, but kept a light smile on. Aaron could tell that his introverted instincts were taking over.

“You don’t need to run. Here, they’ll teach you how to fight,” he said. “And trust me, you’re going to be good at it.”

* * *

**BONUS SCENE**

That night, returning to their rooms feeling gratified and tired from the test, waiting for them on the grand coffee table was a steaming 12-inch pizza in a grease-spotted cardboard box. Aaron wondered how Rufus had gotten it, if he’d used the magic he’d used their first day to make it or if he’d showed up at the nearest Pizza Hut in full Magisterium robes.

The smell of thick cheese, sweet tomato sauce and spicy pepperoni and sausage seemed to pull Aaron’s hand forward before he could even think. He needed real, greasy and fattening food. He was a teenage boy, and he could eat an entire pizza if he wanted.

Tamara smacked his hand away before he could sneak a slice. Call was faster and tore off a piece of crust before stuffing it into his mouth. They both shot glares at him, and he smirked around the thick dough.

It wasn’t long before they were laughing his heads off, Tamara draped over the armchair while Call and Aaron somehow shared the couch. The cardboard box laid open, still warm as they inhaled almost the entire pizza in minutes. Paper plates were scattered across the table, along with torn packages of parmesan cheese and peppers and empty soda bottles.

Call dared Aaron to guzzle a whole liter of soda, and it quickly turned into a competition that left Aaron hiccuping in victory and Call a cola-dribbled shirt he didn’t bother changing out of. Tamara giggled even harder, hugging her stomach as she carefully peeled the onions and peppers off of her pizza and piled them onto Aaron’s plate.

He’d have to pee later, but watching Call spew brown cola like a beluga whale was worth it.

Aaron ran his his tongue all over one piece, and Call shrugged. “I’d still eat it. Mono is worth it.” Tamara made a face that said it all: _“boys are gross”._   

“Besides,” Call said. “I know I’m the only one that likes pineapple on mine and you just claimed a piece full of it.”

As soon as Call said it, Aaron noticed the giant piece of half-caramelized yellow hell sitting in a spot of grease.

Aaron grimaced. Pineapples were the one topping other than anchovies he refused to have on his pizza. “Call, you are a disgusting heathen.”

“And you are a dork if you use words like ‘ _heathen_ ’,” Call said. “Only Shakespeare uses that word.”

“Do you bite your thumb at me, Call?” Aaron grinned. He didn’t really know what that meant, but his Language Arts teacher had been obsessed with Shakespeare. He assumed it was highly offensive.

He must’ve been right, because Call gave him a different offensive hand gesture. “Now give me that piece of pizza.”

Tamara was snickering. “You two are the nerdiest people I have ever met.”

“I’m 70 percent sure you’ve met bigger nerds than us,” Call said, pointing a half-eaten piece of pizza at her accusingly.

“You sang along to the _Doctor Who_ theme! It doesn’t _even have words_.”

“It’s a good show!”Aaron protested. He had fond memories of watching it with Tabitha, who was just as into the show as he was. She’d bought him a scarf one winter that didn’t make a fashion statement, but he’d worn it until the multicolored thread was coming out in pieces.

“The Daleks look like salt shakers!”

“For your information, I’m very fond of salt,” Call said. “You know what I want? Salty garlic bread.”

Aaron grunted his approval. “With marinara,” he added thoughtfully as he took a bit of the pizza, spitting out a piece of pineapple onto his paper plate. Call made a swipe for it and ate it, chewing it without even flinching.

“Gross,” Aaron grimaced. “That was in my mouth.”

“I don’t care. It’s pineapple. I’m not leaving it to rot in your saliva.”

“I take it back.” Tamara sniffed in disapproval. “You’re not the nerdiest people I’ve ever met. You’re the most disgusting people I’ve ever met.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

There was one piece left in the box, sitting gloriously and just waiting for one of them to claim it in all its cheesy goodness. They exchanged glances.

In any other case, hands brushing against one another while reaching for something would’ve been the cheesiest romance cliche ever, but it was a battle to the death for the last slice of greasy, calorie-filled heaven.

They all snatched for it. Aaron thought he felt Tamara’s long nails scratch him, and Call smacked his arm and left a red, grease-slicked spot.  Aaron felt his elbow connect with something, and Call groaned, “Cheap shot, Aaron.”

It was a mess of tangled limbs and curse words, but in the end, it was Tamara who finally held it aloft in triumph, before taking slow bites to taunt them. Call and Aaron huffed and sat back on the comfortable sofa. Call had managed to tear off a piece of pepperoni with cheese dangling from it limply, and nibbled on it slowly.  

Master Rufus would’ve trapped them in the Room of Sand and Boredom upon seeing the aftermath of their all-out pizza party: the floor and table scattered with a multitude of crumpled napkins, shredded toppings forgotten on greasy plates and unfinished cups of flattened soda. But right now, even if he didn’t get the last piece, Aaron felt full and content with a warm pit in his belly and the giddy yet comforting feeling of being among friends left his head buzzing just right to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, serious props for my amazing beta, counterweighting-death or UnfathomableFandoms. Without her help, this chapter wouldn't even exist. We hit a milestone for longest chapter so far: more than 3,700 words!
> 
> And again, apologies for posting later than promised as originally, the next chapter would've been this one. And all you guys, thanks for reading and putting up with my weird schedule of posting chapter and every time I get a Kudos or a comment or a bookmark, I just remember how lucky I am to have a great audience. 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow!


	5. Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron discovers he's a Makar and Call agreeing to be his counterweight

“Tamara! Call! Get back here!”

Aaron felt his throat crack from the intense strain of shouting at the top of his lungs, but his cries fell upon deaf ears, overwhelmed by the snarling and growls of the Chaos-ridden wolves. The pack began to surround the two apprentices and the circle of Iron Years broke, all panicking, terrified for their own lives and for their friends about to be taken. Call and Tamara, they were going to…

He shot his gaze to Alex, but even the Bronze Year, a worse-for-wear Drew draped in his arms, stood in frozen dread. The wolves prowled closer, razor teeth bared and coruscating chaotic eyes concentrated on his friends, Tamara still struggling to fend them off while trying to pull Call to his feet, but he did nothing, like his mind was elsewhere and his body was just an empty shell. A wolf readied to pounce for the distracted apprentices...

What was he doing?

Everything became a blur. All he could feel was the wind whipping his face, the unsteady _thump-thump thump_ under his soles, and all he could hear were the wolves growling, baring their fangs. He felt himself skid to a stop and his body moved automatically, feet planted hard into the ground and arms thrusted out, ready for whatever stupid idea he had planned. His vision began to clear and all he could see was an enormous wolf diving straight at him.

Aaron felt terror rise in him, but it was quickly swallowed back down. He’d no idea what happened next. Around him, the caves and the trees, the apprentices and even his friends, who he heard in the mess of alarm and fear cry a final “Aaron, _no!_ ” soon disappeared until only the wolves were left. He felt a tug in his chest. _What was this?_ He didn’t have time to even asked himself; his body felt controlled by another and from his palms, darkness spilled out, thick, curling tendrils dancing at his feet. They reminded him of the dust motes he used to play with using air magic, making them hover and spin and twirl around him, performing a special dance only he could create, could watch, could understand.

But this was different.

They shot forward, aimed towards the Chaos-ridden. As soon as the shadowy serpents grazed the wolves, they barreled back, whimpering at the touch.

What was he doing?

What was this?

They sounded so pitiful, so desperate; he wanted to stop right away.

But whatever _this_ was didn’t listen.

The darkness only grew, surging in power and strength, spreading and coiling into a swirling prison, the wolves locked in the eye of the storm. He could hear the tortured wails of the Chaos-ridden, almost lost in the raging cyclone, but loud and clear even over the noise of the winds and his own beating heart. His fingers felt a hum emitting from the tips, a force waiting at his command devour the victims. 

Was it the right choice?

Is this right?

With just a small pull, the cyclone thinned into nothingness, dissolving, leaving nothing but a mass of black fog in its wake.

It was done.

What _had_ he done?

The adrenaline was like a clean bullet to his chest; as soon as it had come, it vanished without another thought. And _damn,_ was it something that hurt like hell. Aaron dropped to the ground, legs giving out under him and the ringing in his ears really starting to annoy him. The terror he managed to stomach down earlier was creeping back up his throat. He suddenly didn’t feel so good.

“Oh, my God,” he heard a murky voice say. A warmness touched his shoulder, spreading into his being, rousing him from a trance he unknowingly fell into. “Aaron, Aaron **ㅡ** ” His eyes started to blink open, groggily as if he’s just awoken from a long and restless sleep. The ground was all he could see, a dark smoke roiling across his vision. He felt someone patting on his back, which only made the pain throb more, but was somehow soothing. His slowed brain caught on the wave of distress coming off the people around him, the dark smoke, the comforting sounds of a girl, what he’d just done.

What had he'd just done?

What happened?

The memory of darkness, frightened wolf cries, a final scream came rushing back and he felt ready to throw up or cry, burying his face in his hands. Did he really just…His hands felt so strange, an unfamiliar touch that seemed alien against his sweating face. He heard someone stumble and drop to their knees in front of him, a new hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” a new voice asked. He looked up to see it was a boy with messy dark hair, grime and sweat coating his face and worried, wide gray eyes.

Call.

He nodded, but he still wasn’t sure. Did he really cause all this?

The murky voice he heard before spoke again from behind him, clearer now though hushed and higher pitched. Tamara. “You don’t understand. Aaron’s what they’ve been looking for. He’s the…”

“I’m still here, you know.” He sounded more tired and strained than he thought, but his mind was racing a million miles, afraid of what the truth might be. No, no, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. This was all just a dream. There’s no possible way he could actually be a―

“Makar.”

The word was barely over a whisper, yet it carried into his mind and replayed over and over, blaring over the annoying ringing. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

* * *

Aaron slammed the door shut, flopping onto the couch and starting to untie his boots. The nice, polite act he kept as Assembly members and a Master escorted him back to his room slipped and he can’t say he’s ever felt more infuriated in his whole life.

He never wanted this.

He’d always dreamed of going to the Magisterium; it was the one thing that kept him going after Tabitha left and he felt alone again, a beacon of hope of finally finding somewhere he could call his own to stay. He knew one day, he’d have to give back for what he taken, repay for all the good they would’ve done for him. Nothing came without a price, but _this_ … _this_ isn’t how he wanted to pay it. He never wanted to be a hero, some secret weapon the mages could keep in their back pockets if they ever faced something they couldn’t kill. Didn’t it even matter that he might be the one who gets killed? That they’d be protecting him 24/7 only to throw him out into the fray whenever they most needed him? The thought of dying at an early age, ending up the same way the previous Makar had did before…he didn’t want that.

But what he hated the most was that he was a coward because he just couldn’t say _no._

In a fit of pure rage, he chucked his unlaced boot at the wall near his door, a satisfying _THUMP_ resonating through the common room. Not like they’d do anything about it, right? He could've destroyed his bedroom or all the school dorms and he'd doubt they'd do a thing about it. Can’t risk punishing their precious Makar, he knew that for sure.

“Uh, are you okay?”

He almost jumped as he turned to see Call standing from his bedroom’s open door. “I didn’t think either of you were here,” he said, his voice raspier than he thought. Call looked worried as he stared Aaron, that same look he felt on him when he released chaos for the first time and the first face he saw once it was all over.

Call cleared his throat, looking a bit awkward under Aaron’s gaze. Did being a chaos magician really change their friendship that fast? “Well, Tamara went off with Jasper somewhere," he added. "I guess they’re friends again.”

That was definitely a surprise; Aaron was sure Tamara would never forgive Jasper after he insulted Call all those months ago. How’d they end up even getting back on good relations again? Still, Aaron shrugged it off with a “ _Whatever_.”

Call didn’t seem happy with his answer. “So…you must be really excited about all this…chaos magic stuff?”

Aaron didn’t want to deal with this now. With Master North announcing it to the entire student body and the endless fussing of both the Assembly and Masters, he needed an overdosage of some normalcy.

“Sure, I’m thrilled,” he replied with a biting tone. He stared at his other boot, not wanting to look at Call.

It obviously didn’t convince Call any more than before as he heard the boy fully emerge from his room, the door swinging shut, the cushion beside him sinking under a new weight. “Do you want me to leave you alone so you can throw your other boot?”

Aaron almost laughed. _Almost._

Instead, he took a deep breath and rubbed his face, feeling extremely tired. The early wakeup call to start a search party for Drew and the usage of chaos magic had really drained him, and the Assembly wouldn’t let him sleep in fear something might happen. He was not ready to talk to anyone, especially with everything that's happened, and felt just about ready to collapse into hibernation for the rest of winter. But the last thing he wanted to do was to blow up Call’s face. “Sorry. I just don’t know if I want to be a Makar.”

“Why not?” Call exclaimed after a moment of surprised silence.

This is what he least hoping for. “You don’t understand. Everyone’s acting like this is great news, but it’s not great for me. The last Makar died at age fifteen, and, fine, she pushed back the war and made the Treaty happen, but she still died. And she died horribly.”

“You’re not going to die,” Call said, complete certainty in his voice. “Verity Torres died in a battle, a big battle. You’re at the Magisterium. The Masters won’t let you die.”

“You don’t know that.”

Call said, not even a moment later, “Okay, fine. Then you should run away.”

His head shot up, full attention turned to the boy seated next to him. Like hell he was going to do that. “I’m not going to run away!”

Didn’t Call get it by now? But after everything he’d said on the bus ride over all those months ago, he shouldn’t have been surprised Call suggested leaving. He’d probably been planning to from the start.

“Well, you could.”

“No, I couldn’t. I don’t have anywhere to go.” 

God, did he really have to say it out loud?

Call pushed on. “What do you mean?”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t you notice anything? Didn’t you wonder where my parents were at the Trial?” He somehow knew in a way that Call knew; he could vaguely remember someone’s intent stare on him when his name was called out, more engrossed than the other hundreds of eyes studying him. “I don’t have any. My mom’s dead, my dad ran off when I was two. I come from a foster home. More than one. They’d get bored with keeping me, or the checks from the government wouldn’t be enough, and they’d push me on to the next home. I met the girl who told me about the Magisterium in my last foster home. She was someone I could talk toㅡuntil her brother graduated from here and took her away. At least you always had your dad. Being in the Magisterium is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t want to leave.” Aaron felt himself unravel, something he’d only ever done around the people close to him. Problem was he never stayed long enough to get close. Tabitha was one of the few, and she was always there to lend an ear and give in her own wisdom at times, even when he was reduced to…this.

But she was gone now.

Call muttered under his breath, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Aaron didn’t stop. “After she told me about the Magisterium, coming here became my dream. My _only_ chance. I knew I’d have to pay the Magisterium back for all the good things it’s done for me.” More quietly, he sighed, “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“That’s a horrible thing to think. You don’t owe anyone your life.” Call’s stare didn’t waver, lips pursed tight. When had Aaron ever seen Call this serious about anything?

“Sure I do.” Because if he couldn’t give his life, his powers to the Magisterium, did he even have any worth in the world? Was he good for anything besides being an asset to an ongoing war? Could he do anything else? Could he be anyone else? “And it’s not just me. I’m a chaos magician." The title of power rolled like tar off his tongue, thick and bitter. "I’ll need a counterweight. A _human_ counterweight. Who’s going to volunteer for that?”

Call said, “It’s an honor to be the counterweight for a Makar.”

“The last human counterweight died when the Makar died in battle. And we all know what happened before that. That’s how the Enemy of Death killed his brother. I can’t see anyone lining up for that.” Did he really have to drag someone down with him? If not, would he be forced to deal without one? He knew he couldn’t force anyone to be his counterweight, but was he going to risk being consumed by chaos for that very reason? What if he could justㅡ

“I will.”

Aaron’s train of thought abruptly stopped, full attention darting back at Call with doubt which quickly shifted into a look of panic and fear. He couldn’t be serious. Right?

“You can’t. Didn’t you hear anything I just told you? You could _die_.” His green eyes stared at Call, half-hoping he would change his mind after realizing just how insane and crazy he sounded. But the other half wanted this to be true, that it wasn’t a joke that Call wanted to be his counterweight despite chances of him dying getting higher. In the back of his mind, he really hoped that this decision, this single choice, it wouldn’t be for the glory of being the Makar’s counterweight, to gain popularity among the students, but because Call genuinely wanted to be there for Aaron.

Aaron got his answer.

“Well, don’t kill me. How about our goal is to not die?" he said. "Both of us. Together. Not dying.” Call didn’t stutter, didn’t break eye contact with Aaron.

He couldn’t believe it.

How could Call say anything like that as if it was natural, the right thing, so sincere that it was the truth?

His head dropped. This was really happening.

He was really a Makar. Like Verity Torres. Like Constantine Madden.

He was going to have to face the Enemy of Death, the biggest foe to the Magisterium, and he might have to die for it.

But Call was going to be there. He was going to be his counterweight, his tether every time he reached into the void and his only lifeline from being consumed by chaos. But more than that, he was going to be a friend, one he could trust indefinitely.

Aaron could feel tears threatening to escape as he glanced up at Call, who gaped, mouth open as if he was about to say something, but the look on Aaron’s face stopped him short.  “Okay," he nodded. "If you still want to. When it’s time, I mean.”

Call seemed ready to say something else before Tamara burst into the room, lighting up instantly as she saw Aaron and giving him a bone-crushing hug. A few strings of excited chatter and a mini pillow fight later, he peeked over the pillow smothered in his face and caught Call staring at him. They smiled at each other.

Aaron didn’t want to admit, but even if he wanted to pay back the Magisterium for all they have and could do for him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to give his life up for a war he never believed in. He just didn’t see it worth dying for.

But maybe he did see something else in the room he’d give anything to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD NEXT ONE WILL BE LAST CHAPTER FOR THE IRON TRIAL PORTION. I'M ACTUALLY ABOUT HALFWAY DONE A MULTICHAPTERED STORY FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE.
> 
> Be warned: chapters 7 and on so will be Copper Gauntlet so major spoilers on the way if you haven't read TCG yet


	6. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the bowling alley
> 
> Okay, a bit of a trigger warning: Aaron will have bandages around his wrists because of his injuries during the bowling alley, so just in case, okay?

Aaron shifted in the wooden chair, his eyes darting for the hundredth time today back to where a boy laid unconscious, a mop of messy black hair shockingly darker against the Infirmary beds’ pristine pillows and white fitted sheets. He seemed so peaceful, so still, like he was trapped in a trance that Aaron didn’t have the heart to break, even if he could. For once he didn’t look in any pain, for once his face was perfectly relaxed but deathly slack.

Call had been sleeping for barely a day, but it felt strange living a day without one of his best friends. He had collapsed after Aaron’s successful rescue at the bowling alley, and had been knocked out ever since. It was hard work for Aaron, piggybacking Call all the way back to the Magisterium. It would’ve been more comfortable for Call if he carried him bridal style, but it was much easier for him to carry the boy on his back. And on the verge of collapsing himself, Aaron needed to conserve his strength as much as he could.

He could still remember their heavy heaves for air as they rushed Call to medical attention as soon as possible, Tamara crying for help as they entered through the Mission Gate and how he wished he could, too. Maybe if he helped her yell, people would’ve heard them and Call would’ve gotten the help he needed sooner. Maybe his friend wouldn’t be in the state he was now. Only once they had reached the Refectory did the apprentices and Masters having breakfast take but a moment to process the state they were in before hurrying them to the Infirmary. The Masters helped tend to Tamara and Aaron’s cuts and bruises and his rubbed raw wrists and ankles, giving them food and calming them. Across from them, Call was being looked over by Master Amarnath, two blue clad apprentices rushing about with jars of muds and mosses.

The little furry bundle curled up on his lap whined. Havoc nudged his nose once again into Call’s hand. The Assembly, after a few hours of persuasion and charm, allowed them to keep Havoc so that Aaron could “study a Chaos-ridden up-close and personal in order to figure out how to defeat the Enemy” and so, the wolf, now free to roam the Magisterium, spent all his time at Call’s side in the Infirmary as he slept on, a luxury neither he nor Tamara had.

Even if they were allowed a small break to worry over Call, he couldn’t spend it sleeping anyway, not when Call seemed as if he was content to leave the world forever and sleep on.

Aaron had no idea how much he wanted to see Call’s eyes open until now.

_“I see through the masks of skin you wear. I see your future. One of you will fail. One of you will die. And one of you is already dead.”_

Why was he thinking about this now? They knew the prophecy wasn’t true. None of them were already dead, and even if Aaron was captured, there was no way the Magisterium would let anyone die. Call wasn’t even dead, just sleeping. Even though he wasn’t sure when, Aaron knew he’d wake up eventually. But all it took was another look at Call and it’d become impossible for him to get the Devoured’s words out of his head.

 _“What if you don’t want to go?”_ he remembered Call asking, when he first saw him during the Iron Trial. Maybe now he’d gotten his wish, leaving for good.

He paused at the end, studying Call a bit longer before glancing at his leg. He felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him.

_“It’s not an excuse. My leg bones were shattered when I was a baby. I’ve had ten operations, and as a result, I’ve got sixty iron screws in there holding my leg together. Do you need to see the scars?"_

Call had just been in the Infirmary after spraining his good leg. Now he was back not even hours later for another round of rest and healing. All because of him.

_“You do know that when we get there, we’re going to die, right?”_

Call wasn’t dead, just sleeping. He could see the small bump of Call’s stomach rise and fall underneath the thin white blanket. He’s not dead.

“How is he?”

Tamara appeared beside him, holding a plate from the Refectory, piled high with food he’d skipped to watch Call.

Aaron’s stomach growled, and he tried not to eye the plate as he answered, “Nothing different.”

She nodded, and placed the plate on the nightstand beside him. “Eat,” she said, taking a seat next to him. “You missed lunch again.”

Both Tamara and Aaron were given some time off after coming back, though the Masters and Assembly were eager to restart his chaos mage training as soon as possible since his kidnapping. His new Makar schedule was different from the regular apprentice’s; he’d be constantly pulled away by the Assembly or the Masters for private lessons or some official Makar business. He was lucky to finally have some real time to spend with his friends, even if it was bittersweet and Call wasn’t awake to add a snarky comment every few minutes.

“This is the first time I’ve ever missed lunch,” Aaron pointed out, but that didn’t stop him from accepting the food. He didn’t eat it right away, poking around at the shredded moss and mushrooms.

“Then let’s not make a habit of.” She snatched a vegetable chip from the plate, staring at it for it moment wistfully before nibbling it. They were silent, both invested in their food and their own thoughts. “This wasn’t your fault, okay?” Tamara said. “Call being here wasn’t because you caused it.” It’d been awhile since Aaron had really talked to Tamara, too busy with Makar duties and worrying about Call’s condition. He had no idea how she was taking this. It must be selfish of him to not help her through this like she was with him.

“Then whose fault is it?” Everything happened for a reason, right? Just as everything came with a price. Someone had to have caused everything.

“Aaron, you didn’t ask to be the Makar. But you also didn’t ask Call to be your counterweight either, did you?” Before he could say anything, she added, “I didn’t want Call to come with me to get you back because he still needed time to heal, but he ended up coming anyway. We both went to save you because you’re important to us, not because you’re the Makar.”

Aaron was starting to wonder if his power was as much of a curse as a blessing, like Achilles’ heel. Just as his chaos magic made him strong, almost invulnerable and infamous, in all but one place, it could be his undoing.

Tamara ate slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “I tried to tell him to go back. He...he’s so strong sometimes. He just gritted his teeth and kept walking and I let him,” she sniffed, and Aaron wondered if he should offer her his abundant stash of tissues. “I wish I’d gotten him to go back.”

“I wish he didn’t have to grit his teeth through life,” Aaron said. As much as he wanted to help Call, Call didn’t need ㅡ or want any fixing.

 _“I don’t need your help,”_ Call would say, gray eyes intense and hard as steel.

“We should’ve been more careful. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t climb the rafters with me to cut you down. So he distracted Drew instead. Call doesn’t see it, but he’s braver than he thinks.”

Aaron almost smiled. He remembered that, the sound of a door crashing open as Call burst in, and he could hear a smile forced on as he said, _“Hey, Drew. This sure doesn’t seem like pony school to me.”_

In that moment, he’d almost been able to put aside the pain of hanging by his ankle, which were slowly dislocating. The blood had run to his head and it had been pounding, but in that moment, Call had been his knight in shining armor.

* * *

_Aaron was half-unconscious, and he barely paid any attention to what was being said. He had to assume Tamara must be here, too. No way she’d let Call go off on his own to do something so stupid. The two idiots had come back for him, and if he didn’t feel like a piece of raw meat hanging in a butcher's shop, he would probably hug them before scolding them for being idiots._

_He felt something tugging his chains and Aaron stifled a half-delirious groan. His ankles felt like he’d sprained them repeatedly, then cut them with a dull knife. Then he found himself being hauled up and lifted onto the rafter, his shackles being taken in a gentle hold and he felt the spark of magic shoot through the gloom of his glazed senses, and he was free. His head still felt heavy and fuzzy, but he managed to make out a girl with dark hair in front of him. Tamara._

_Then Drew had let the chaos elemental out with an angry shout, and the case holding it back shattered. Free from its glass prison, it surged up as vast and black as an oil spill. A thousand jaws and limbs seemed to mingle into the fabric of this living, breathing nightmare._

_Suddenly he was very wide awake. Call looked suddenly small and helpless, grasping his knife pitifully, preparing for death. Aaron heard himself scream, even in the Infirmary; an inhuman and desperate sound that tore at his vocal chords._

_Not Call. Me. Me!_

_Havoc pounced and he heard Call scream too. His knife was dribbling black, oily blood._

_As though fate had listened to their collective fear for each other, the Chaos-ridden turned and suddenly it was on Drew. Drew had been kicking and screaming at the creature and it had come over the boy as swiftly as a summer storm, and then he was dead. Call had stood and stared as the elemental attacked, Miri dripping with chaos held limply in one hand. His eyes, even from far away, had been large and terrified. He stared over the dead body as if he’d killed Drew himself._

_“Call, get out of there!”_

_“I can’t!” Call shouted, knife pointed at the creature hunched over the dead Drew._

_“Go that way!” Tamara said. “Look for anything ㅡ a window, anything. We’ll meet you outside.”_

_All Aaron saw before he crawled out was Call clutching the wolf’s small body to his chest._

_Then Call had stayed, and when he didn’t come out, Aaron’s nerves spiked. Was he okay? Did he need help?_

_Finally, Tamara had convinced him to climb the bowling alley sign to try to signal for the Magisterium. They had reached the top, rickety and wind-whipped. Aaron shifted his weight and suddenly they were holding on for dear life riding the world’s most terrifying rollercoaster. The sign came crashing into the roof with an almighty groan of metal before it finally stopped. Aaron had no idea how he was alive, with splintered wood and metal all around him._

_He could see Call among the debris, pinning Havoc beneath his body. The rest of the room was empty except for the shards of glass and...shapes. Shapes that quickly became human, and then nothing close, with red eyes like volcanic flow._

_The Chaos-ridden._

_Call got up and Havoc skittered onto all fours. Aaron’s terror mixed acidically in his gut. He wouldn’t let the Chaos-ridden touch Call, not his counterweight, his best friend._

_Aaron’s vision went blurry, but he felt the tug in the pit of his stomach, the power he couldn’t control. He immersed himself in it, content to live with the exhilarating, tearing feeling he felt ㅡ pure power. He wasn’t sure what happened that night, or what he’d done after he caught sight of the Chaos-ridden and blanked out. The only thing that was clear was Call reaching out to pick him back on his feet and his own hesitation to go with him. Still, Aaron allowed himself to be pulled up and he slid down the sign after Call, who had already made it to the bottom and was leaned against the side of a dumpster._

_“You okay?” he had asked._

_And Call looked up, a look of pain and complete exhaustion and relief on his face and Aaron side-glanced at Tamara, who looked as skeptical as he did. “I ㅡ I’m fine. I can’t believe you came back for me.”_

_Aaron had frowned at that. Did Call really think this? “Of course we did.  I mean, you and Tamara came all this way to get me, right? Why wouldn’t we do the same thing for you.”_

_“You matter, Call,” Tamara said._

_Call didn’t look very convinced._

_They were readying for the long trek back to the Magisterium when Aaron saw Call start to collapse. In a miracle of reflexes, he managed to catch Call, who slumped forward into his arms before his head could crack against the ground._

_“Oh, no. Tamara!” Aaron held Call under his arms, and he sunk dangerously close to the ground. He was heavy like this, completely slack like ten bags of sand._

_Tamara looked over her shoulder and her eyes widened. She rushed over and eased him to the ground. She took his pulse and nodded in relief. “He’s okay. But I have no idea how we’re supposed to bring him back to the Magisterium like this. Maybe we could try sending a message ㅡ”_

_“I’ll carry him.”_

_Tamara raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” she asked. “You’re not in any better shape than he is.” She wasn’t lying; the rope and the chains used to tie him up dug deep into his wrists and ankles, leaving bracelets of blood and raw skin. He severely needed a nap._

_But he nodded. “Yeah. I think I can do,” he said and slung Call over his back, gripping his thighs to keep him from falling._

_Tamara pursed her lips,  “Aaron, don’t worry. He’s going to be fine.” But she had looked just as distressed as he felt. They’d rushed back, Aaron’s arms slowly going numb and his wrists chafing._

* * *

He wasn't very good at not worrying. His lip was bitten raw and he tasted blood when he bit it again, looking at Call’s slack hand. He rubbed the bandages around his wrists absently.

Tamara patted Aaron’s arm. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll watch over him.”

Aaron took one last look under heavy lids at Call, hoping his intense gray eyes would open. They stayed closed, webbed with blue veins. He’d be okay. Tamara would stay awake to watch him. No one could hurt him here.

Aaron settled down in his chair and felt himself fall asleep, his neck craned over the back of his chair. His heavy eyes dragged him under into fitful darkness.

* * *

_“Aaron, no!”_

_His eyes snapped open to find an enormous wolf pouncing straight at him, razor sharp fangs poised for his neck. He remembers this. It was the night he had discovered his affinity for chaos magic. He watched on rewind the way everything around him disappeared until it was only him and the Chaos-ridden wolves left. He reached out for chaos for the first time, the darkness coiling his clenched fists, and at that moment, he wasn’t just Aaron. He was Aaron, a Makar, one of the rare magicians with access to chaos, and the fated champion and savior of the Magisterium._

_Something was wrong._

_His hold on chaos felt tighter as it swelled from his hands, skittering up his arms like thousands of writhing snakes and furling around his neck. It enveloped him, and with a single sharp jerk, he was gone. The Chaos-ridden had vanished and he could feel the woods close around him, spinning wildly. He felt as though he took the wolves’ place, trapped in a storm he had conjured, a fierce wind blustering through his ears, yet his hair and clothes didn’t flutter. Shadows danced across his vision, a familiar darkness he’d seen before, only now it was everywhere, not just smoky tendrils swirling from his fingertips._

_He was in the void._

_There the shadows bent to his will, there he was most powerful, and there people respected and feared him most. He was a chaos magician, one of the Makaris, and this was his domain, free for him to command and control however he desired._

_But this was too much. Chaos, who had once knelt at his feet as he entered its realm, now grappled for his clothing, snatching for any of him they could take, and he knew there how much it wished to conquer his body and mind, until he was no longer Aaron Stewart anymore, until everything human of him was stripped away and all that was left was power and chaos. Until he was devoured._

_“Who would desire to be human? Human hearts break. Human bones shatter. Human skin can tear.”_

_He felt it snake around his body, seizing his ankles and he sunk into the floor, which had became viscous and thick, a pit of tar that only grew and thrived inside him. This was what he was born with, where his purpose came from, the source of all his worth to the mages. His wrists were whipped back, now ensnared in the black pool. His head was hazy, as though all the blood from his body had surged into his skull. He knew this feeling._

_He was back at the bowling alley, surrounded by grubby walls and slumped, slack faced Chaos-ridden and the snarls and searing strokes of the chaos elemental against his skin and Drew’s crazed laughter ringing clear through the blur of torture. His body swayed, foggy, as if he still swung just over the mutilated creature’s head in agonizing temptation._

_“What, you can’t get yourself free, Makar? I thought you were supposed to be powerful. Special. But you’re not really special, are you? Not special at all.”_

_“Do you know what it was like to learn that the Makar was some stupid kid from nowhere who would never do anything about his powers except what the mages told him to do?”_

_“The Makar; all these years, the mages have waited for a Makar, but they’re not the only ones. We were waiting, too.”_

_“It’s so much fun. You don’t know anything. You think Aaron’s your friend. You think everything they told you in the Magisterium is true. It’s not. They told Aaron they’d keep him safe, but they didn’t. They couldn’t.”_

_This was going too far. He was going too far. Too far out. He was on the brink of unraveling for good. But he didn’t want to fight back. He couldn’t fight back. This was the only way. He had to save them. He was still completely terrified. He didn’t care. He had to save them._

“You don’t understand. Everyone’s acting like this is great news, but it’s not great for me. The last Makar died at age fifteen, and, fine, she pushed back the war and made the Treaty happen, but she still died. And she died horribly.”

_He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to end up like Verity Torres. But he had to do this. He had to._

“You’re not going to die. Verity Torres died in a battle, a big battle. You’re at the Magisterium. The Masters won’t let you die.”

_Stop. Please stop. He didn’t want to hear._

“That’s a horrible thing to think. You don’t owe anyone your life.”

_Don’t. Anyone but him. Not now._

_“Aaron.”_

_Not another trick. Please. Don’t. He didn’t want to hear his voice. He didn’t want some cheap imitation with him here when he was at the end of his line, when he wasn’t even ready to abandon the real one. But he had to._

_“Leave me alone! I need to ㅡ” The shadows rose, engulfing his entire body, and his stomach tightened, dark matter, bitter as the title he possessed, oozing from his mouth and clogging up his throat. “I need to ㅡ ”_

_He needed to focus. This was making it worse for him. He needed this to stop. Did he deserve this?_

_“You need to stop.” No! Stop talking! “Aaron, you can’t do this without a counterweight. You’ll die.”_

_“It doesn’t matter!” That was his voice, he realized. He was speaking right now. He could speak here._

“You can’t!” _he heard another voice cry out. “_ Didn’t you hear anything? You could _die_.”

“Well, don’t kill me.”

_“Tamara’s waiting. We can’t leave her. You have to.”_

“How about our goal is to not die? Both of us. Together. Not dying.”

_Together, not dying..._

_The darkness around him waned, trickling from his cheeks until it was drained from within the raging cyclone as did his shackles. He felt only something warm against his chest, small, but there._

_“Come on. You have to.”_

_The cyclone, in a few withering spins, disintegrated and he could finally feel like he could breath again. He looked around at the dissolved scene to see a boy with messy dark hair, grime streaked face, and wide, worried gray eyes, the first face he saw the first time he emerged from using chaos._

_Call._

“Okay,” _Call said. Aaron could see him. He could see his words came from, come from somewhere he could reach. A weight on him lifted, and he realized Call had been pinning him down_. “Okay, Aaron. Let’s go.”

_Call held out a hand for him to take. Aaron’s hand hesitated. His fingers twitched nervously away from Call’s._

_“It’s so much fun. You don’t know anything. You think Aaron’s your friend.”_

_Aaron was Call’s friend. Drew didn’t know what he was talking about. So why was he doubting it now?_

“We could be friends, Call. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. We could be on the same side.”

“We really couldn’t. Aaron’s my friend. And the Enemy wants him dead, doesn’t he? He doesn’t want another Makar to challenge him.”

Aaron took it.

_“Okay. If you still want to. When it’s time, I mean.”_

* * *

“Aaron!”

Aaron woke up with a jolt, took a look at who said his name, and groaned out, “Tamara?” His throat felt dry, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he felt better than hours earlier.

“He’s waking up.”

Aaron suddenly felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head; he’d never been more awake. Call was still lying in bed, but his eyes were moving under the lids, which were parted ever so slightly. He was waking up. He wasn’t dead. Aaron had never really believed it, but a weight came off his shoulders and Aaron was on cloud nine.

Footsteps padded behind them and he turned to see Master Rufus approaching them. In his hands he carried a tray containing a steaming earthenware bowl, a teapot and mug, and a clear glass ball that reminded him of a frozen soap bubble. He paused at the bedside, took one look at the stirring boy, and asked,  “Would you two mind waiting outside for a while? I’d like a few moments with Callum.”

Tamara nodded, but Aaron was a little more unwilling. Both he and Tamara had been waiting all day for their friend to wake up, so he should’ve been able to wait a little longer, but he had to force himself out of his chair and through the doorway, where he slid down the wall and picked at his bandages.

“What do you think happened when Call was alone in there?” Tamara wondered out loud as she joined him on the ground.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Maybe the elemental chased him around the building and he got lost?” Aaron knew it sounded stupid, but his brain had shut down on stress. Aaron decided to change the subject before Tamara would tell him he was an idiot,  “What do you think they’re talking about in there?”

“Maybe for Call’s side of the story? Who knows what he saw while we were outside?”

Aaron didn’t feel like answering that ㅡ he didn’t really want to know. He allowed the silence to settle over them, not uncomfortable, just anxious as they waited to see Call. He tried thinking about his dream, which was already slowly dissipating in his memory. He caught a few tidbits that stuck out the most, most memories from his time at the bowling alley, like the chaos elemental, but he remember sinking, Drew’s cackling insults, and himself screaming...

Most of all, he remembered his hand in Call’s, somehow so solid and warm entwined with Aaron’s own shaking one, even in dreams.

That was when the closed door started to crack open and they jumped to their feet. Before Rufus could come out, nearly expressionless save the crinkles of tension between his eyebrows and at the corners of his mouth and leave in a flourish of robes, they rushed in. The large cavern was dim with barely lit crystals, and felt more empty and sinister at night.

But when Aaron saw Call smirking at him the room couldn’t be brighter. He was propped up against the headboard. Aaron, acting almost without his own consciousness, pounced him and hugged him tightly around his shoulders.

Call laughed, but behind it there was uncertainty. His hands patted Aaron’s back awkwardly and he took it as his signal to pull away.

“Happy to see me?” Call smiled lightly, but for Aaron, that was enough.

Tamara shook her head, but she was smiling wider than Aaron had ever seen. “You smug jerk.”

They stayed up late into the night catching up, and none of them dared to bring up the bowling alley. It was a different day, and not one for bringing up the terror they were pushing away. Aaron could almost pretend that Call just had a cold, and the bandages on his wrists were just bracelets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, HUGE THANKS TO ERIKA(counterweighting-death) because without her awesome betaing skills and ideas, we wouldn't have reached this huge milestone as this was the final chapter for the Iron Trial part! We're halfway there you guys! Chapters from now on will be the Copper Gauntlet, so HUGE spoilers on the way for those who haven't read.
> 
> Also, for the next few weeks, I'll be very inactive on Tumblr and Ao3. Got a lot of tests coming up and homework to make up, so I'm sorry to say the next chapter won't be posted until November. But once I get school stuff done, I promise I'll get my first TCG installment as soon as possible!


	7. But

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gables Part 1

“Havoc!”

The Chaos-ridden wolf, who was just a puppy the last time he saw him, had grown to be almost as big as Aaron himself. It was weird to think the maturing wolf could fit into Call’s jacket when Call first found him, but his added bulk didn’t stop him from clambering onto Aaron, saving him from yet another droning conversation. Havoc started licking his face, making him laugh as he ran his fingers into Havoc’s coarse ruff. Seeing the wolf again almost made him forget the chatter of the crowd dimming into horrified gasps and furiously angry whispers.

“Get _off_!” Tamara’s father, well-dressed in a crisp suit, pulled Havoc down. But the damage had already been done; two muddy paw prints were stamped on the shoulders of Aaron’s new suit. He couldn’t help but think it looked better now.

Tamara came rushing in, curls cascading behind her. “Dad, Mom,” she managed to gasp out. “Remember, I told you about Havoc? He’s fine. He’s safe. He’s like...our mascot.”

To prove her point, Aaron crouched down, grabbing Havoc’s collar from Mr. Rajavi’s hands. He scratched the sweet spot behind the wolf’s ears, and his tongue lolled between his sharpened canines. Despite being a Chaos-ridden and his terrifying looks, Havoc was really still a giant puppy dog.

“It’s amazing how he responds to you, Aaron,” Tamara’s mother practically cooed, her silver shoes jingling lightly. “He becomes positively tame.”

Around him, the crowd slowly joined in with her, applauding for him as if this was another fancy trick he performed for their entertainment.

But Havoc didn’t belong to Aaron, even if he was legally his property for “studies”. He was Call’s dog, through and through. And wherever Call went, Havoc followed.

Aaron looked up and saw behind Tamara stood a boy with wild black curls, wearing rumpled pajamas under an old windbreaker and a bulging canvas duffel bag.

He smiled. Call.

But he couldn’t help but notice how the smile he shot back at him was forced.

Aaron couldn’t remember the last time it wasn’t. Since the bowling alley, Call was distant. Then he left, and now he was here with a haunted, sleepless look in his eyes.

Aaron wished Call would let him hug him. Or even just talk to him, really talk to him for once.

* * *

“This is some place, huh?”

Aaron had been staying at the Rajavis’ for a while, but even now, he still feels as though it was just a dream, that he might wake up to find himself back in his latest foster home. He threw open the impossibly large wardrobe tucked in the corner of his room, filled with so many clothes that he could’ve spent days trying them all on. He pulled out a simple outfit of a jacket, shirt, and a pair of pants, and brought them over to Call, who sat on the room’s plush king sized bed. Call didn’t take them, busying himself instead by staring at Aaron intently. He squirmed under his gaze.

Call snapped from his daze, and said, “You didn’t mention that you were staying at Tamara’s house.”

“It’s weird,” Aaron admitted, trying to just shrug it off, but he wasn’t sure if Call was simply overreacting about the whole thing or had a legitimate right to be angry.

“It doesn’t mean it has to be a secret!”

“It wasn’t a secret! There was just never a time to bring it up.”

 _But what about you?_ Aaron thought. _What are you keeping from me?_

Call told them the whole story on their way to Aaron’s room, Alastair not wanting Call to return to the Magisterium and locking Havoc up in the basement, but Aaron didn’t believe it as much as he should have. It was almost as forced and empty as his alibi for being stuck in the bowling alley. But if Call was hiding something, Aaron couldn’t force him to tell him anything.

Call huffed, rolling his eyes and taking the clothes from him.

“You don’t even look like you.”

It was an offhand comment, muttered soft under the boy’s breath, no intention of ever being heard. But it seemed to echo through the ginormous bedroom.

“What do you mean?” Aaron did change when he started staying at the Gables, Mr. and Mrs.Rajavi transforming him to look more prim and proper, with new haircuts and fancy suits and one of the best rooms in the mansion that let everyone know he was a boy of importance. It was a huge change from his usual attire, and it made him more comfortable in his skin around the constant doting and watchful eyes of the important mages, but as Call sat on his bed, gray eyes raking in his appearance with careful consideration, he felt a bit self conscious. “Do you mean the clothes? Tamara’s parents insisted I take them. And I felt really weird wandering around here in jeans and T-shirts when everyone else always looks so…”

“Rich?” Call said. “Well, at least you didn’t show up in your pajamas.”

Aaron gave him a fond smile. “You always know how to make an entrance.” He remembered the first time he saw Call, barely a year ago. Just an annoyed boy forced into the Iron Trial, doing everything he could to not to be chosen. Never would he have suspected that boy would become important in his life.

Call took his new clothes into the bathroom connected to Aaron’s room to change, leaving Aaron to his thoughts. He flopped onto the plush bed ㅡ primly made, as usual. When did he ever have a personal bathroom to himself or even his own bedroom, especially one so big? Until the Magisterium, he’d always been crammed into a broom closet of a room with at least one other kid. It was nearly impossible to have any kind of privacy when you were always stuck with the same people. Now he had all the isolation he could have wanted ㅡ or not wanted. A month had passed and it still felt emptier than what he was used to. Even at the school, both Tamara and Call were just a door’s knock away.

Aaron moved to look out into the lawn, where the garden party was being hosted. He watched as the kids played with the different magic games set out, completely in their element among the topiaries and kid-friendly fire. The adults idled around to gossip and catch up with old friends. It was so different from what he was used to, the atmosphere and lifestyle. He just had to decide if that was a good thing.

“So you like it here?”

Aaron was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Call come out. He’d swept his hair in a messy, but slightly controlled, wavy mess and rolled the jacket sleeves up to his elbows. Aaron had expected Call to take the time to shower, but he’d changed extremely fast.

Aaron shoved his blond hair out of his eyes, which his new haircut often did. “I know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t the Makar. Tamara’s parents are nice. Really nice.” He grinned, thinking of the adults’ extreme hospitality, which was quickly dashed by why they were doing it in the first place. “But I know it wouldn’t be like this if I was just Aaron Stewart from some foster home. It’s good for them, politically, to be close to the Makar. Even if he is only thirteen. They said I could stay as long as I liked.”

When did he ever hear that before? _Stay as long as you like. It’s really no trouble._ And they actually meant it, even if the intention was different?

“Tamara’s your friend,” Call pointed out. “And not because of politics or who you are. She was your friend before anyone knew you were the Makar.”

“And you were, too,” Aaron smiled.

Call shrugged. “I thought you were okay.” The confession still made Aaron beam. Call would fake nonchalance even when they were having their most heartfelt moment.

“It’s just that being the Makar at school meant one thing,” Aaron said, a new shadow appearing beside him, which meant Call had joined him. “But this summer, it’s been about doing tricks and going to parties like this one. Being introduced to lots of people and everyone being really impressed to meet me and treating me like I’m special. It’s fun…I know I really didn’t want to be the Makar when I found out, but I can’t help feeling like my life could be pretty great. I mean, if it wasn’t for the Enemy.”

He turned to Call, who payed close attention to him. He let himself search Call’s tense face. “Is it bad that I feel that way? I can’t ask anyone but you. No one else would give me a straight answer.”

Call let his gaze drop, and Aaron regretted saying anything.

Maybe Aaron should have kept his mouth shut. He could tell from the way Call spoke that he had been through something serious before getting here, something that was really bothering him, and that he had a lot on his mind, and now here Aaron was, dumping the problems that he should have been used to dealing with on him. He should have answered as taught; short, simple, unquestionable.

“It’s not bad to think being the Makar is fun,” Call replied moments later. “You should have fun. So long as you don’t forget that _‘if it wasn’t for the Enemy’_ is a pretty big if.”

“I know,” Aaron said quietly.

But it was hard to enjoy himself at all, what with knowing what was coming his way sooner or later. He’d been trying everything to not think about the Enemy of Death over the summer, hoping to avoid the subject until at least his Copper Year and just get a little peace. It didn’t help every time he attended a party or any type of magical social gathering, the mages would consistently ask about his plans to fight Constantine Madden, or how it was being a Makar, or how it felt the first time he used chaos magic. Because he was just the Makar to them, their newest defense against the Enemy and Chaos-ridden. There’d be no way he could put that off once they returned to the Magisterium.

And he was throwing Call into the thick of it, being his counterweight. Call didn’t need his whiny baggage, too. He had his own problems.

“And as long as you don’t get conceited,” Call added. “But you don’t have to worry about that. Because you’ve got me and Tamara to remind you that you’re still the same loser you were before.”

Aaron almost laughed, but instead he smiled. “Thanks.”

If Aaron was going to walk into battle against the Magisterium’s biggest and worst archnemesis, it made him feel safer knowing this was the guy he’d be fighting alongside, and relying on so neither of them died.

_Together, not dying._

Call opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but at this moment, Tamara decided to burst into the room, flowered dress fluttering around her knees.

“Are you guys done?” Tamara frowned. “Honestly, Call, how long does it take to get dressed?"

Before Call could say anything, Aaron interjected.

“We’re ready.”

* * *

“And now, perhaps our very own Makar, Aaron Stewart, would favor us with a demonstration of chaos magic?”

Aaron froze. He should’ve been used to being put on the spot like that. It always happened at least once at every party, but it always seems to catch him off guard. Using chaos still terrified him, especially without Call, his counterweight, his support system, his best friend. He used Tamara as a counterweight whenever he had to perform his little “tricks”, but it wasn’t the same.

Chaos was his weapon, and people wanted him to use it for their amusement. It was exhausting. He felt like some trophy, a precious little pawn to be displayed in awe and envy and fear instead of a student whose life they were willing to throw away.

Still, he squared his shoulders, and took his place surrounded by the crowd. All attention was turned to him, as always, the anticipation pressing in.

Aaron lifted his hands and connected to that odd, intrinsic part of him. The power came crashing over him like a wave, and from nothing came darkness.

Makar. Maker and destroyer, all in one.

Now that Call was here, maybe he could use him as his counterweight instead of Tamara. Call always made him feel grounded in a way Tamara couldn’t, despite him never even reaching for Call’s soul. But it seemed wrong, taking what he wanted (or in this case, _needed_ ) upright without asking. He made sure it was okay with Tamara if he could use her soul to counterweight whenever he had to showcase his magic. Because even if he asked, he’d be at fault if it went horribly wrong.

_He has enough on his mind. Don’t pressure him even more._

Aaron slowly added in more power, like kindling to a flame. He was in control. He could handle this. The shadows danced and morphed, but he kept them grounded like he was holding onto the reins of a rebellious stallion. They battled against him, pushing and pulling. He swear he heard them whisper his deepest fears, felt them clawing at his soul.

He didn’t dare open his eyes. Who knew how it felt from the other side, watching someone so young have...this at their beck and call? He must have looked terrifying to them, controlling the darkness and forming monsters from thin air. He could practically feel the chaos elementals studying the crowd in much interest, hungrily prowling around them, as if ready to go for the kill. But he kept them back, just enough for them to not bite anybody’s head off. He had to keep them back; he was the only thing keeping them from attacking an entire yard full of people.

And they didn’t. He could feel them resisting, but they remained tame, under control, and Aaron felt he finally got better at this, that he finally had control over chaos and its beings, so much he almost felt proud of himself and could even smile.

Havoc suddenly let out a sharp yelp, and his grip went slack on them, just slightly. But that was all that was needed.

His hold on them snapped and that alone was almost loud enough to block out the mass panic erupting around him.

He heard people start to scream, but behind the fringes of his lashes all he saw was black. He collapsed onto his knees and desperately threw his hand out.

It _hurt_ , and if he couldn’t get control, it would hurt a lot of people, too.

 _Stop. Please._ Aaron felt hot tears brewing. He needed Call. He needed him right now, but he couldn’t find him amidst the anarchy. There was no bright spot left. Aaron was going to die and take everyone with him, or he’d become Devoured. Right here in the middle of a garden party, in front of his best and only true friends.

Maybe the only way to stop them was to devour them with Chaos itself. Aaron would try anything now.

Aaron willed the last dregs of his power, the most dangerous parts, up. If he lost all control now, he’d die for sure. It was worth trying to spare everyone else.

Aaron felt himself suddenly be emptied. The pull was gone, only a sucking, empty feeling. He opened his eyes. The sun was bright overhead, the shadows now in their rightful places.

And he needed a nap.

Everyone around him was laughing, clapping like he didn’t just unleash a pair of soul thirsty monsters on them. Mrs.Rajavi was on the ground, her hair and dress thrown into a ruined mess, but she smiled as if nothing ever could go wrong at this fine garden party. But Aaron...he almost…Mrs.Rajavi was nearly killed at his hand.

He could almost hear them whispering, _“This was just another one of his little tricks, of course none of us were in any real danger.”_

He found Call and Tamara in the smiling crowd. Tamara was beaming like everyone else, but Call looked like he’d seen a ghost, or worse. Maybe he was the only one who realized just how close Aaron had been to his limit.

He needed to get out of there, to get away from everyone. But the crowd wasn’t done just yet, ignoring his shoves to commend him on his newest stunt and clap him on the back and tell him how much they loved the show. He didn’t want to hear it.

His foster families always snapped at every little thing he did wrong: forgetting a homework assignment, leaving his sports bag lying around, not doing his chores right away. Now the mages were treating him like everything he did was right. It was all praise and support, even when he messed up big time or even almost killed people. Here, no one criticized him. At least, not to his face.

Aaron still felt like his breath and energy was being sucked out of him. “Can we go sit down somewhere?” he muttered to Call, low enough so no one else heard him. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Sure,” Call nodded, and he bent down beside Havoc, whispering into the wolf’s ear. It reminded Aaron of their first day, Master Rufus kneeling to coax the water into carrying them down the tunnel. Havoc perked up and started forward, the masses of people parting like the Red Sea to let the wolf through, Call, Tamara, and himself in tow. He made sure to keep close to them.

Aaron collapsed on the rim of the yellowing fountain at the edge of the garden, hands rubbing through his hair to ruin it, ruin something so someone could finally call him out on something that he did wrong. Let them get angry and yell at him, tell him what was bothering them instead of just letting his mistakes slide as something that was okay because he was special. He felt like he was back in the Room of Sand and Boredom, pushing his frustration back before he exploded in someone’s face.

“I hate my haircut,” he grumbled. Call would probably think it was just him being conceited and worried about his looks.  

“It looks fine,” Call said.

“You don’t really think that.”

“Not really,” he admitted with a smile. Aaron didn’t smile back for once. “You okay?”

_No, I’m not. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of everything and everyone and you seem to be the only one to notice. But I don’t want to seem whiny and “ungrateful” for what I have, but I don’t think I can handle this anymore. I want someone to help me._

Aaron sighed. “I justㅡ”

“Have you heard?”

Aaron paused; a man was talking somewhere behind them.

“Someone broke into the Collegium last week. They tried to steal the Alkahest.”

Aaron and Call shared shocked stares, then turned to Tamara. Tamara’s eyes went wide and she held a finger to her lips.

“Someone?” a woman’s voice scoffed. “You mean the minions of the Enemy. Who else? He means to start up the war again.”

“No broken Alkahest is going to save him once our Makar is trained and ready,” the man replied.

_Alkahest?_

“But if he’s able to repair it, the tragedy of Verity Torres could repeat itself,” voiced in another man, more nervous than the other two. “Our Makar is young, like she was. We need time. The Alkahest is too powerful for us to take an attempt to steal it lightly.”

“They’re moving it to a more defensible location,” the woman added. “They were fools to keep it on display in the first place.”

“Until we’re sure it’s secure, the safety of our Makar must be our highest priority,” the first man said.

Aaron went rigid, hyperaware of the gurgling fountain water and the undertones of worriedness in the mages’ voices nearby.

“I thought having a Makar around was supposed to make _us_ safer,” the other man quavered. “If we’re busy guarding him, who’s guarding us?”

Aaron felt himself deflate. He wasn’t worth protecting. He was a weapon. He could fend for himself, right?

Call shot up to his feet, but he looked just as bad. His eyes were glued to the ground, and there was a crease between his eyebrows.

Call was his protector, but Aaron wanted to protect him too. If only he could protect him from himself.

Tamara stood up and grabbed them both by their arms. “Come on,” she said with forced cheer. “I’m starving. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Sure.” It was halfhearted, but he didn’t feel up to it. Just anything to distract him. He needed out, now. He let her drag him to the buffet table as Call made them all plates piled with different meats and cheese.

Aaron didn’t even like cheese, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Call that.

People kept pulling Aaron aside to talk to him. He felt like he was in the rope in a game of tug of war. He tuned out everything they said, nodding every few minutes and laughing when they laughed.

_Leave me alone._

Someone else yanked him by the sleeve, and he turned in surprise to see it was Tamara. But once again, he let Tamara pull him away to who knows where, and he was happy to find it was away from the party guests. Call and Havoc joined them as they went inside the house, and Aaron felt like he could finally breathe.

“Where are we going?” he asked as she led them down the halls past the kitchens and studies.

“Come on.” They finally reached the library, shelves packed heavily with thick, beautiful books, rainbow rays of light streaming through the colored glass windows. Aaron wanted to stop to pull out some of the volumes, plop onto the rich, deep red carpet, and read, but Tamara kept leading them along until she reached a grand fireplace. Seriously, was anything here capable of being described as anything else but “grand”?

Two agate vases ㅡ probably worth enough to buy a small economy car ㅡ sat next to the fireplace. They had words carved into their sides, and Tamara spun them around until they said _Prima materia_.

The fireplace swung away on hidden hinges, revealing a hallway that looked as if it had always been there.

“Whoa,” Call gasped.

Aaron knew Tamara was rich, he didn’t know she was rich enough to have actual secret passageways.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Aaron exclaimed, facing an extremely pleased looking Tamara. “I’ve been living here for a month!”

“I’m not supposed to show anyone,” she chuckled. “You’re lucky to be seeing it now, _Makar_.”

He was excited enough to ignore the title and exacted vengeance by sticking his tongue out at her, which only made her laugh again.

Tamara retrieved a torch from a sconce in the wall and set off down the secret hallway, snapping her fingers when they didn’t immediately follow after. “Come on! Move it, slowpokes.”

Call and Aaron shared a look, and shrugged in unison. Havoc followed after them, close on Call’s heels.

There were windows that looked like air ducts built in the sides of the walls, closed off with ornate hatches. It didn’t make sense for the Rajavis to provide such an easy way to spy on each other and their guests. Call stopped a few times, and Aaron looked back to see him peering through one.

 _Peeping Tom_ , he thought, but he was just as curious.

“What are you doing?” Tamara called back.

“Nothing!” Call’s voice was a little higher as he slammed the hatch shut, and if it wasn’t so dim, Aaron was sure he’d be bright red. What the hell had he seen?

They walked a little farther, and it seemed Call couldn’t keep his curiosity at check, because he stopped again at another ornate grate. This time, Call gestured for them to join him. The hatch wasn’t open, but he could already recognize the voices: Tamara’s parents. Aaron gingerly pushed away the hatch.

“We probably shouldn’t…” Tamara trailed off, and she was probably right. They’d eavesdropped enough today, after unintentionally hearing about the Alkahest. But he could tell they were all a little interested why Mr. and Mrs.Rajavi were here and not at the party.

The room was one Aaron recognized, the same office he was brought into when he first arrived. They stood at a mahogany table in laid with the chess set that had pieces made of alchemical symbols.

“ㅡAnastasia, of course,” Mr.Rajavi said, ending his sentence.

“Of course,” Mrs.Rajavi nodded, now changed into a clean dress and her hair fixed. She plucked a glass from a nearby tray, slowly filling itself with a pale drink. “I just wish there was a way not to invite the deWinters to these things. The family believes if they pretend long enough it’s still the glory days of magical enterprise, maybe no one will notice how threadbare their clothing and their conversation has become. Thanks goodness Tamara cooled on their son once school began.”

“The deWinters still have friends on the Assembly. It wouldn’t do to put them off entirely.”

Aaron exhaled in relief. They were just gossiping, not talking about important magely secrets. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed though, but what was he expecting? This was a party; you didn’t exactly bring the most confidential topics into small talk.

Still, he couldn’t get his mind off whatever the Alkahest was. It definitely sounded like a weapon and from he heard earlier, it was a weapon against him. He didn’t even know what it looked like or what it did; it was a threat he didn’t know how to handle, and that was dangerous for everyone.

“They’re clearly trying to throw their youngest son into the path of the Makar,” Mrs.Rajavi noted, making a face that told him how much she hated the deWinters. “Probably hoping that if they become friends, some of the glory will rub off on him, and their family by extension.”

“From what Tamara has said, Jasper has failed to endear himself to Aaron. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, dear. Tamara is the one in Aaron’s apprentice group, not Jasper.”

She sipped some of her pale drink. “And Callum Hunt, of course. What do you think of him?”

Aaron clenched his fists and he felt Call stiffen beside him.

“He resembles his father. Unfortunate about Alastair Hunt. He was a promising metal mage when he studied under Master Rufus.”

Aaron glanced at Call uneasily. He was frozen stiff as a statue, and his jaw was clenched tight. To be honest, Call didn’t look like his father that much, other than the dark hair and the grumpy disposition.  He probably inherited a lot from his mother, but Aaron had never seen a picture of her before or knew much about her.

“He was driven mad by the death of his wife in the Cold Massacre, they say. Putters about not using magic, wasting his life,” Tamara’s mother mused. “Still, there’s no reason not to extend a welcome to his son. Master Rufus must have seen something in him if he chose him as an apprentice.”

 _No reason not to welcome Call?_ Did there have to be a reason to be a generally kind and decent person?

Tamara must have had the same idea he did, because she grabbed Call’s arm, pulling him away as Aaron closed the grate. They continued down the passageway, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice how Call’s hands tightened in Havoc’s ruff.

Tamara opened another door and they entered another study with more books. None of them were bound with leather as rich as the others, and dust danced in the air and settled on the plain table ㅡ the only plain thing Aaron had seen for weeks.

“What’s this place for?” Call asked. Havoc didn’t care where they were. He hopped onto one of the soft-looking couches and curled up, muzzle buried into his fluffy tail.

“Secret meetings,” Tamara grinned. “My parents don’t think I know about it, but I do. There are books about dangerous magical techniques in here, and all sorts of records dating back years. There used to be a time when mages were allowed to make money off magic, when they had huge businesses. Then they passed the Enterprise Laws. You weren’t allowed to use your magic to make money in the normal world anymore. Some families lost everything.”

“So how _do_ mages make money?” Aaron ran his fingers across the spines, tracking a path through the dust. Havoc sneezed, but Aaron kind of liked the smell of old, dusty books.

Maybe they could learn something about the Alkahest. The Rajavis had so many books here, there had to be something about this mysterious Makar weapon.

“They can either work for the Assembly or they can get a regular job,” Tamara said. “But if you had money from before, you could invest it.”

Aaron knew Jasper’s family used to be rich ㅡ maybe they had been kicked off of the Assembly.

“Do you think any of the people at the party are headed back to the Magisterium?” Call blurted. “Maybe I could get a ride with one of them?”

“A ride?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “To the Magisterium? But no one’s even there.”

“Someone’s got to be there,” Call insisted. “And I’ve got to stay somewhere. I can’t go home.”

Can’t go home? Aaron knew what that meant ㅡ he’d contemplated running away enough times to know something was very, very wrong.

Tamara shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can stay here until school starts. We can swim in the pool and practice magic. I already worked it out with my parents. We set up a spare room for you and everything.”

“You don’t think your parents will mind?” Call sounded skeptical, and Aaron agreed; from what they just heard, Tamara’s parents had their own doubts about Call being here.

“They’re happy to have you,” she said in a way that told them the reasons were good and not so good.

“You could call Alastair. So he won’t worry,” Aaron added. “I mean, even if he doesn’t want you to go back to the Magisterium, he’s got to want to know you’re safe.”

Alastair must have cared about his son, but he showed it in a way that wasn’t very healthy. After all, who protected their son by throwing a knife towards him?

“Yeah,” Call mumbled, then he perked up. Maybe a little too quick. “Maybe tomorrow. After we find out more dirt on Jasper. And eat all the food at the buffet. And swim in the pool.”

Call was stalling. Aaron could tell he wasn’t ready to talk to his dad just yet, especially after everything that happened. Whatever it was, something had gone horribly wrong, and Aaron didn’t know if it was Call or Alastair that was in danger. Still, Call would talk to his dad eventually and tell him and Tamara what really happened to cause him to run away.

“And we can get some magic practice in,” Aaron said, smiling. “Master Rufus won’t know what hit him. We’ll be through the Second Gate before everyone else.”

“As long as it’s before Jasper,” said Call. Tamara laughed.

They could pretend everything was okay a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN MORE THAN A MONTH AND I'VE JUST BARELY DRAGGED MYSELF OUT OF WRITER'S BLOCK AND LAZINESS HELL, BUT THANK YOU COUNTERWEIGHTING-DEATH FOR HELPING ME GET THIS DONE AND TOLERATING MY BSING AND BEING AN AWESOME PERSON
> 
> yell at me in the comments all you want, but seriously, thank you all so much for the kudos and support I LOVE YOU ALL


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